


Guilty by Design

by TamzStripped



Series: I Don't Blame You. [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Astral Projection, Bodyswap, Canon Divergence - Magic, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Kidnapping, M/M, Mates, Near Death Experiences, Pack Dynamics, Panic Attack, Rough Sex, Sequel, Song fic, Versatile Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, gratuitous cuddling, house fire, if you like magic this shit is for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 105,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TamzStripped/pseuds/TamzStripped
Summary: Stiles and Derek have settled into their new home, the pack is stronger than ever, and everyone is excited for what is in store for their futures.Derek tries his best to provide for his beta’s and restore the Hale’s name. Isaac is thinking about enrolling in the academy. Scott is looking at veterinary school. Allison is learning how her families business works. Jackson has a scholarship for lacrosse. Erica and Boyd have a baby on the way. And Lydia has her pick of summer internships, and colleges.While everyone else plans for their future, Stiles is learning what it means to be an Emissary. He’s running out of time to figure out how to prepare for Peter to strike at the next Blood Moon with the intention of killing Stiles. Stiles doesn’t want to scare the rest of the group, so he keeps the threat secret for as long as he can. The secret being that he doesn’t know how to protect himself from Peter, and if it came down to it, he would sacrifice his own life to save his and Derek’s family.





	1. This is just a part I portray.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuiteContrary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuiteContrary/gifts).



> On the first day of Christmas I gave to my Boo! One sharp crystal.
> 
> It's finally here! Thank you all for your patience, I know this has been a long time coming. As promised, this will be a 12 chapter fic, and I will post a chapter a day ending on Christmas :)
> 
> 3 things before I let you go.  
> 1) This sequel's driving force is my, [darling](http://mmquitecontrary.tumblr.com/). She is amazing, and I wanted to give her nice things, so the sequel is dedicated to you, my love! 
> 
> 2) This also wouldn't have happened without the wonderful Beta's who gave me so much of their time to tear through this baby so close to the dead line.  
> [Krist](http://notvirginawoolf.tumblr.com/) is amazing, and has given this way too much attention and is still helping me round out my last few chapters. I can never thank you enough, doll. Everyone go give her a follow!  
> [Elise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GrangerPeavon/pseuds/GrangerPeavon) Who read through my garbage before anyone touched it, and still told me it was good. I needed to hear that, thank you! You should all go check out here work!  
> [Eustilly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eustilly/pseuds/eustilly) Who made it her priority to catch any inconsistencies, and I love her for it! She's working on her first fic, you should totez subscribe to her account!  
> There are a few more who shared their time with me, but I am waiting for their permission to link them here. :)
> 
> 3) Each chapter will begin with an excerpt from Peter's story in the first fic, giving you a look behind the curtain. Hopefully it's not too hard to follow. Also! Weird, seemingly dramatic things will happen throughout this fic... but trust me on the fact that Everything has a purpose. Trust.
> 
> Without further adieu! 
> 
> I give you Chapter 1 titled from [Masterpiece Theater I](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGWeVjzVEYM%0A) by Marianas Trench. (Yes, it's happening again. Each chap will be connected to a song from this album. Enjoy!)

Even though Peter had just helped Derek’s pack solve the Kanima problem, he knew he hadn’t solidified a place in the pack that would eventually allow him close enough to kill Derek for the Hale power

Peter had given up on the idea that he would somehow steal back the power that he deserved from his nephew. Derek, a pathetic excuse for an alpha, somehow had created a pack that when working together, could hold their own.

Accepting that the pack would never allow him within close enough reach because of his past grievances, he decided to leave Beacon Hills all together, and settle for seeking out a weaker alpha.

* * *

* * *

 

On January 1st, Derek and Stiles spend the morning cleaning the house after the New Year's party the night before. The house is trashed, but they aren’t bothered because everyone had such a great time.

Derek returns from taking out the seventh bag of trash and sits down at the kitchen island to watch Stiles finish loading the dishwasher. “Thank you for helping me tidy up,” Derek says, looking around at the nearly clean house.

Stiles looks over his shoulder with his brows knit together. “What? Why wouldn’t I? This is my house too.”

Derek nods with a shy smile because he knows this is Stiles’ house and thanks any deity within hearing range every day for the gift of Stiles in his life.

Stiles continues scrubbing a stubborn pan, his attention back on the sink of water in front of him. “But you already knew that, so there’s something else you want to talk about.” Stiles loads the baking dish into the dishwasher and closes it to start the cycle. He turns around with a dish towel in his hands, working it between his fingers to dry them off.

Derek would be touched that Stiles knew him so well, if he weren’t dreading the topic he’s been putting off discussing.

“So what’s on your mind, big guy?” Stiles asks, throwing the towel on the island in front of Derek.

Derek clears his throat and tries to give Stiles a reassuring look, relaxing his face so that Stiles doesn’t start freaking out prematurely.

Stiles’ shoulders sag a fraction as he notes Derek’s efforts.

“Deaton called me on Christmas Eve,” Derek starts, pointing to the stool in front of him, silently asking Stiles to sit down.

Stiles steps forward, his teeth working at the inside of his upper lip. “And?”

Derek waits until Stiles is seated. “He mentioned something that has him concerned.”

“Okay, Derek, I can tell you’re trying not to worry me, but can you get to the point sometime soon?” Stiles asks, resting on his elbows on the counter, his attention focussed entirely on Derek.

Derek takes a deep breath. “Deaton told me that you two provided enough blood for the ritual for _six_ alphas, but there were only _five_ there that night, so there might be another set of vials out there somewhere.”

Stiles seems to relax, which is the opposite of what Derek was expecting.

“You don’t seem too worried about this,” Derek says, trying to read Stiles’ face for clarification.

Stiles smiles before standing back up and grabbing the towel to wipe down the counters. “I’m not. I already thought about that,” He says flippantly.

“What?” Derek blinks. “When?” How long has Stiles known there was _yet another_ threat against his life?

Stiles fans open a new trash bag to put back in the can before he answers. “It was a month or so after the ritual when everything calmed back down. I think Peter has them, but he needs to be an Alpha for the ritual to work, so we don’t have to worry about him yet.”

“Stiles!” Derek raises his voice slightly, frustrated with Stiles’ flippant attitude toward a threat, and the fact that he’s known for at least four months but hasn’t said anything. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Stiles turns around, picking up on Derek’s frustration. “Because it’s not a _big deal_ , not yet anyway. I knew that the next Blood Moon wasn’t until January and I wanted to get through the holidays. The pack has been through a lot, and I didn’t want to worry them unnecessarily.”

“Stiles,” Derek grumbles, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing.

“What?” Stiles throws his arms out and slaps them down against his thighs.

Derek slips his eyes open. “You promised you would stop keeping things from me after the ritual.”

Stiles’ face flickers between frustration, indignation, and shame before he huffs and flops back down onto the stool in front of Derek. “I know. You’re right. But I mean, we don’t know for sure if there even _is_ a threat.” Stiles pauses, guilt getting the best of him. “I _was_ going to tell you, maybe today, I don’t know. I was just waiting until the threat got closer.”

“You have to stop leaving me out of things.”

“But--”

Derek cuts him off. “No! What if Peter had tried something? What if he kidnapped you and held you hostage somewhere until the Blood Moon?”

“You guys would have found me,” Stiles answers, crossing his arms.

Derek fights to keep the growl from his voice. “You don’t _know_ that.”

Stiles lets out a huff. “Uh, yeah, I _do_ .” He huffs again dropping his head, frustrated that he has to explain why he’s so sure of this. “I know our pack, and we’ve been through some shit, and we have done enough search and rescues to know that if one of our own goes missing, we all work together and we _will_ find our _family_.”

This is one of the biggest differences between Stiles and Derek. Derek has little confidence in his pack, because they have so much to learn, and Stiles believes they can carry the weight of worlds and never break. “Stiles, they’re just children. There’s no guarantee that we could find you.”

Stiles smiles and pushes back from the counter to walk around behind Derek and wrap his arms around Derek’s shoulders. “Well, lucky for me, I’m their alpha's mate, and there really isn’t an option to fail that search and rescue.”

Derek has to fight the instinct to sink back into Stiles’ chest, and he’s not stupid enough to miss that Stiles is trying to leach the frustration out of him.

“Stiles,” Derek says, his voice calmer now that the subject of the missing blood is finally under discussion.

Stiles follows Derek’s tug to stand between Derek’s spread thighs.

“What?” Stiles shrugs his shoulders, like he can’t possibly understand why they are still talking about this.

Derek lets Stiles rest his hands on his shoulders and ignores how Stiles has his hips cocked just enough to invite Derek closer. Derek is in no mood to be manipulated. “All that aside, you didn’t tell me. It’s been five months since the ritual, and the next Blood Moon is less than four weeks away.”

Stiles starts to argue but Derek shakes his head and continues.

“Anything could have happened, and none of us would have known where to start because we would wake up one day and you could have been gone, and we wouldn’t have a clue as to who could have taken you.” Derek brings his thighs against Stiles’, holding him in place. “You think Peter isn’t a threat because he isn’t an alpha and has to steal that power first.” Derek pauses and waits for Stiles’ nod of agreement.

“Yes.” Stiles rolls his eyes but doesn’t make any movement to get away.

“What if Peter had tried to take that power from me?”

Stiles blanches.

“What if he had gotten me alone at a moment of weakness and killed me? He would be an alpha and I wouldn’t be able to protect you or the pack from whatever he did next.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I didn’t think - I thought - Derek, you know I wouldn’t - I didn’t. Fuck!” At this point, Stiles is shaking, and his eyes won’t meet Derek’s anymore as he fruitlessly searches the kitchen for the misguided comfort he’s been deluding himself with until now.

“I know,” Derek reassures him, finally offering Stiles the touch he’s been silently asking for, strong hands pulling Stiles in by the waist.

“I didn’t think about that. I was just - I thought I was the only one who might be in danger, since I seem to always be the damsel, and now I have this emissary crap, and I wanted to believe I could take care of myself and spare you guys some worry. As long as Peter isn’t an Alpha, there wasn’t a problem, so I didn’t worry about it.”

Derek nods, understanding.

“If I had thought for one second that _you_ or any of the pack could be in danger I would have locked this house down and created an impenetrable force to rival Fort Knox.”

“You can do that?” Derek blinks, thrown off track momentarily.

Stiles looks down and mutters, “No, but I’m working on figuring it out.”

Derek’s lips twitch at Stiles’ determination to protect his pack. “You’ll figure it out. You can do anything you put your mind to, I believe in you.”

Stiles smiles and he falls forward to rest his face in the crook of Derek’s neck.

Derek knows that Stiles just needs a few minutes to sift through his thoughts without someone reading his expressions. Derek wraps Stiles in his arms for good measure. Even though Stiles has kept this from him, Derek doesn’t want to watch Stiles suffer though the guilt.  “I love you, but you _can’t_ keep things from me.”

“Okay,” Stiles mumbles against Derek’s neck. “But it’s not like you didn’t keep it from me, too.”

“For a week, Stiles.”

Stiles grumbles and buries his face further with a deep sigh.

Derek holds Stiles, twisting his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck until Stiles is ready to finish cleaning the house. After about ten minutes, Stiles twists his hips and settles his butt over Derek’s thigh, turns his body to rest against Derek’s chest, and frees his face from where it was buried. Derek feels Stiles’ breath ghost over his breastbone.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Derek comforts him, holding Stiles’ weight so he doesn’t plummet to the floor between his feet. The position is awkward, but Stiles knows Derek’s strengths and uses them to his advantage.

“I won’t keep anything from you anymore, or at least I’ll do my best. I’ll keep you updated on any of my theories - of which there are a lot, so get ready - and of any plans I set into motion,” Stiles breathes.

“I want to talk about it _before_ you set plans into motion, Stiles. I want to discuss our options.”

Stiles sucks in some air through his teeth. “Okay, look. I am willing to keep you in the loop, but I _will_ do what I want. I will listen to your input, but I _will_ do what I feel is best.”

“Stiles.”

“Derek,” Stiles challenges.

Derek sighs. “Fine.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that Laura is looking for Peter already?”

“What?”

Stiles sits up and grins at Derek, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I told them about my suspicions and asked them to let me know if they happened to see anything. So, as mad as you are at me, I wasn’t working alone, and I did ask for some help.” Stiles kisses Derek quickly and then wiggles away so he can distract himself with cleaning the kitchen.

Derek is stunned silent. He was only able to successfully see his family the night of the Christmas party, and hasn’t been able to see them again this week. “Wait!” Derek barks. “They knew there was a threat when I saw them?”

Stiles nods slowly.

Derek pushes the irritation away, not wanting more apologies. “Have they seen anything? Any news?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, nothing. Laura has been looking for at least four months non-stop, and she hasn’t found anything.” Stiles makes his way into the living room to finish straightening up there and Derek follows. “The otherworlds are tricky, and I’m still learning how it works. They don’t exactly have a crystal clear window to look through into our world. They’ve tried explaining it to me, and it just gets more and more confusing with every question I ask.” Stiles throws a pillow onto the couch to punctuate his frustration. “Laura is looking, though. All of her focus is on Peter.”

Derek chews this over.

Stiles finishes and plops down on the couch. “I think I’m still hungover.” He groans, rubbing his temples. “Scratch that, _definitely_ still hung over.”

Derek walks over slowly, letting his eyes sweep across Stiles’ long, loose limbs draped over the couch.

“I wonder if Lydia and Allison are suffering too.” Stiles moans. “They better be, they’re the ones who kept pushing shots at me.” Stiles grumbles and sits up to rip his flannel off. “Hot. So hot.”

Derek fights a grin knowing he shouldn’t try to initiate any strenuous activity, because Stiles isn’t feeling well, so he keeps his distance. But damn, seeing Stiles spread across the sofa, pulling clothes off, and hair disheveled - well, that’s not something Derek can ignore.

Stiles opens his eyes and looks around until he locates Derek leaning against the banister to the stairs. Stiles snickers before throwing out an arm toward him. “Come here, big guy. Don’t think I don’t see those puppy dog eyes.”

Derek rolls his eyes, but walks over and lets himself lie down on top of Stiles, resting his head over Stiles’ heart. He listens to the even pulse that means more to Derek than his own.

Stiles laces his fingers through Derek’s hair, and hums contentedly below him. “Das right, get you some lovin’.”

Derek nips at Stiles’ neck, which earns him a full body flinch and giggle.

“So,” Stiles sighs. “When are we going to tell the rest of the pack?”

Derek closes his eyes and doesn’t answer. He lets the rhythm of blood flowing through Stiles drown out the rest of the world for just a little while longer.

* * *

 

They call a pack meeting that night and settle into the patio furniture on the back porch.  Stiles is pleased to find that Allison and Lydia are, in fact, suffering the beating of a hangover from the night before.

He and Derek tell the pack their theory that Peter may be gearing up to try and repeat the ritual in a few weeks.

The response is as expected. There are raised voices, and accusations being thrown around, but they all quickly step up to pull together a plan.

Stiles rolls his eyes as Derek jumps on their planning with vigor. He issues each pack member an area to patrol in case Peter returns to Beacon Hills.

Lydia, brain that she is, speaks up above the noise around her and voices the same worry Derek had earlier. “What if he comes for _you_ , Derek?”

Derek nods. “We’ve already thought about that, and Stiles is working on warding the house against attacks.”

“And,” Stiles adds, “I have some eyes in the otherworlds that are looking for Peter as well. They have been looking for months and haven’t found him.” Stiles doesn’t say exactly who is looking. They haven’t told the pack much about his journeys to the otherworlds or that he found Derek’s family.

“Yeah, but how do you know if you can trust them?” Scott counters. “Whoever they are.”

Derek defends his family quickly. “We can trust them to do whatever they can.”

Scott flinches, not expecting Derek to defend Stiles’ sources.

Isaac puts a hand up and scoots forward in his seat. “If Peter _does_ have the vials, then he only has one shot at pulling this off.”

“Correct.” Stiles nods.

“Assuming he manages to kill an alpha and steal power,” Isaac continues.

“Yes,” Stiles confirms again.

“Then shouldn’t we be careful?” Isaac asks with a raised eyebrow.

Stiles’ eyes bulge slightly at the obvious remark. “Duh, that’s the whole point of this meeting, were you even listening?”

Isaac rolls his eyes, a gesture which has come to include his whole head (much like Derek). “Yes, mom.”

Stiles balks at the title.

“I mean, if he only has one shot at this, we need to be careful so he doesn’t pick up on our suspicion. If--”

Stiles follows Isaac’s train of thought and runs with it, disappointed that he hadn’t thought about it himself. “If he realizes that we are on guard, he could wait us out until we feel safe again and _then_ strike. We need him to be confident that we aren’t onto him until he’s wasted at least one vial.”

Isaac grins. “Exactly.”

Derek stands at the entry of the porch with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He looks down at the floorboards in thought. “You’re right. If he realizes we’re suspicious, and thinks there’s a chance he won’t be able to complete the ritual, he’ll wait until another Blood Moon.”

“How often are Blood Moons anyway?” Jackson says dismissively from his seat beside Lydia, clearly not taking the threat seriously.

Derek rolls his eyes like Isaac did only moments ago.

“You’re a wolf, man. How do you not know these things?” Stiles laughs, trying to lighten the mood. “Blood moons happen about every six months, they just _seem_ rare because some moons aren’t as easy to see as others.”

Boyd speaks quietly. “So if Peter decides to wait, then we have at least another six months of worrying.”

“Or prep.” Erica offers over her nail file. “Could be beneficial. It would give us more than a few weeks to come up with more than one fight plan.”

Lydia taps her nails against the arm of her chair. “True, but that also gives Peter time to come up with contingencies of his own, since he’ll know we’re expecting him.”

Derek clears his throat and Stiles looks over to see Derek staring at Erica, his shoulders taut. “Erica. We need him to do this now.”

“Hey,” Stiles intercepts, trying to throw the brakes on whatever has creased Derek’s brow more than usual. “It’s okay. If all works out, we will sabotage his plan this month and all will be well. If not, we can handle it in six months. No one is saying that we aren’t going to _try_ this month.”

“We can’t afford to wait six months,” Derek protests.

“Why?” Stiles whispers under his breath as he looks around. Then Stiles notices that Derek still hasn’t taken his eyes off of Erica, and it clicks.

_Erica._

Erica who is _with child_.

“So.” Stiles claps. “We make sure we end this, _this_ month.”

Erica can’t understand why the minor silver lining she was trying to point out has turned into something so intense.

“Erica,” Stiles turns toward her with a smile. “It’s okay. I think what Derek is _trying_ to say is that we need to take care of this now, because come July you will be in your third trimester, right?”

She looks around quickly when she realizes.

Derek speaks up, “You won’t be able to help like I know you would want to.”

Stiles notices the twitch in his lips that says he had more to say but is holding it back for some reason. Stiles decides to look into that later and move this meeting along. “As far as a plan goes, I wouldn’t worry too much right now about the specifics. We can talk more about it at tomorrow’s regular pack meeting.”

“You mean we have to still come to that?” Jackson complains. “I thought tonight would count as this week's meeting.”

“Tough titty, Jackson. We still have a lot to discuss, but I think we should all sleep on it before we start fighting over an actual plan. Sound good?” Stiles looks around for approval.

The pack nods, and they all stretch to stand, calling the impromptu meeting to an end.

Stiles makes his final statement before Derek calls it. “Don’t worry too much, we’re going to be okay. Remember, I have eyes on the other side looking out for us.”

“But,” Derek interrupts, “We can’t rely entirely on these individuals because we don’t know how much they can see, so let’s not get taken by surprise.”

Stiles shakes his head with a smile. “He’s right. So, just keep your phones on. The plan as of right now is to make sure Peter doesn’t find out there _is_ a plan.”

They all agree and disperse. Normally, this is where many of them would head back home, go running in the woods, or raid the kitchen. Tonight, they all make their way inside for drinks and snacks, and then pile in front of the television after sticking a DVD into the player.

Stiles tries to hide his smile after seeing Derek’s neck blush with the realization that his pack doesn’t want to leave. Stiles would have thought the Christmas party was enough to reassure Derek that his pack is strong, and that they all love each other, but maybe Derek still isn’t letting himself believe it.

Stiles kisses Derek on the top of his head when he sits down in their chair. “I’m going to go upstairs and… meditate,” Stiles tells him, not wanting to say that he’s going to try to talk to Derek’s family when the others can overhear.

Derek looks like he wants to argue, but his face relaxes and he looks at the pack on the floor before responding. “Tell them I said hello.”

“Always.” Stiles smiles, leaning down to bump his nose against Derek’s.

* * *

 

Stiles settles into his circle of candles and stones, which, according to his mother's journal, help you travel safely and maintain control. He centers himself and reaches out for Laura.

Laura took it upon herself to be the one to look for Peter because she refuses to let Peter hurt anyone else if she can stop it. She hasn’t been able to catch even a glimpse of him, and she’s growing restless with each day that passes where she doesn’t pick up a trail.

Talia keeps Stiles updated on the status of Laura’s search because Stiles can’t always find Laura himself. Since she discovered that Stiles and Derek have no idea where Cora is, Talia has also been focusing her attention on finding her daughter, so Stiles can’t always reach her either.

Derek hasn’t said anything about wanting to look for Cora, and after today’s events Stiles knows why. Derek saw his family on the same night he realized there was a threat against Stiles and his pack. He’s prioritizing Stiles and this pack over his birth family, and thinking about this is breaking Stiles’ heart. Stiles’ potential danger shouldn’t take precedence over Derek’s baby sister. Stiles doesn’t want to live with that.

Stiles levels out his breathing, hoping to calm his mind and allow him to travel, but it only serves to suffocate him further. He hasn’t been able to see the Hales, or see anything else in a while. There were times in the first few months after the ritual where Stiles would travel and find himself deep in a natural wilderness, surrounded by trees, animals, and water. Now, he can’t even get _there_.

He opens his eyes and stares at the wall across the room like it is that specific wall’s fault that he sucks. Stiles tells it as much before he stands up to inspect his setup for flaws that could be blocking him. Everything looks fine--well, as fine as Stiles can tell, considering he has absolutely no help in the matter.

Stiles goes to his trunk of herbs, crystals, and other weird shit that Deaton has given him. This keeps his hands busy while he thinks about the thing he’s been fretting over for the last three months, non-stop.

He knows _nothing_.

All he can do is travel, and that only has a success rate of about 43%. There was the night of the ritual where he was magically healed from the claw marks on his leg, but he hasn’t had any wounds to test again since. When he tries to think about different things to experiment with, all that comes to mind are stupid fictional spells from Harry Potter, and he’s not fool enough to try them.

Stiles is a studier, a researcher; he buries himself in mountains of text and reads it over and over until he can recite the information verbatim. All he has on emissary practice is his mom’s single journal, and the book he checked out from the library, which, as expected, doesn’t give much about actual practice, concentrating on what it means to be an emissary. He needs more information, not Deaton’s stupid little jars of herbs and pretty colored crystals.

_Deaton_.

Stiles has always kind of hated that guy. Not the kind of hate to where if Deaton were in danger Stiles would shrug and walk away, of course not. No, the kind of hate where when he listens to Deaton speak, he has to bite his tongue because seriously, no one is that vague and cryptic unless they are doing it on purpose.

Stiles _hates_ that guy.

Every time Stiles tries to talk to him about his _talent_ (which Stiles can’t even say without air quotes because he’s proving to be the exact opposite of talented), Deaton rattles off some cliché about how it will all work out when it is meant to. Blah blah. Stiles usually stops listening and imagines stuffing the back ends of pencils into Deaton’s ears.

Having rearranged the trunk for the third time, Stiles closes it with a groan and plops himself down on top and drops his head into his hands.

What if he never learns?

What if all he can ever do is travel, and only _sometimes_ at that.

Stiles needs this.

He needs to be useful.

The pack needs him.

He pulls his legs up onto the trunk, wraps his arms around his shins, and drops his face to his knees to hide. He’s supposed to be born for this, but even with the power of five alphas flowing through him he can’t control the ability to travel.

Stiles realizes that this must be how Derek felt last year, when they were all trying to help him with his full shift.

His mother was able to, he was doing his best to learn and earn it, but he was never able to shift. Still hasn’t, but after seeing his mom last week, Stiles has hope for him.

Stiles’ mind starts to wander to the dark places which even he refuses to dwell on, and distracts himself with the memory of Derek’s warmth when Stiles climbed into his lap. Derek was stubborn as ever, but he didn’t deny Stiles what he needed.

Stiles knew that he should have told Derek about the possibility of Peter having nefarious intentions, but didn’t want to admit he didn’t have a plan, keeping his suspicions to himself for as long as he could, making excuses not to tell Derek.

After Derek admitted he knew, Stiles couldn’t resist crawling into his lap and allowing himself to be surrounded by Derek’s warmth and protection. It gave him a few minutes of peace. A brief respite where he could shift the burden of worry from himself to Derek and just bask in the comfort of Derek’s presence.

Stiles thinks about the weight of Derek on top of him while they napped, and tries to summon the feeling again, needing comfort now, too. Stiles wishes he and Derek could barricade themselves in their house and just cuddle all day, every day, and never have to fear the assortment of supernatural forces knocking at the door. But, that isn’t an option. This is their life, and they will always have to be ready for the next level of madness to attack from any angle.

He takes a deep breath and lifts his head from his knees. His moment of weakness needs to end so he can resume his role in his pack. He has always been the guy with the plan, the guy who always knows what’s going on. This has not been the case since the ritual, but he’ll be damned if the pack finds out their confidence in him is misplaced.

Stiles could ruin the peace they currently have. He could throw his hands up, and confess his weakness to them all. Scream about how awful he is at everything, and that he actually has no plan whatsoever for when Peter makes his move.

About how he can’t even figure out how to protect the house, which should be Emissary 101.

About how he can’t take Derek back to his family, even though travel should be an emissary’s most basic skill.

He can’t even get answers from Talia on why exactly he can’t bring Derek to her. He’s come to learn that since the Hales weren’t emissaries themselves, they don’t have any first hand knowledge of how an emissary travels.

Stiles needs a goddamn teacher!

The pack trusts him not to fail, to take care of them, to be one step ahead of the enemy. In the past, Stiles was proud of this, but now he’s only keeping up a front, because he feels utterly useless.

Stiles exchanges some of the crystals around his circle of candles on the floor, because it couldn’t hurt, right? He sits back down in the center and tries again. This time, he doesn’t try to find Laura or Talia specifically, he just aims to visit the otherworlds. After ten minutes of sitting in silence and trying to clear his mind, he gives up and throws the nearest candle across the room.

“Why? Why? _Why_?!” he screams at the empty room, occupied only by his own failure. “This shouldn’t be so fucking hard. What the fuck.”

Stiles looks toward the trunk and wonders if the reason he can’t travel is because his magic is begging for something else. Maybe it’s grown tired of performing the same old hat trick over and over? He stands up and retrieves his mother's journal to read through again.

There could be something he’s missed; this will only be the one hundred and second time he’s read it, right? Regardless, he looks for something simple that will stretch his magic and maybe put him at ease.

The only practices his mother bothered to document are far from simple. They are all sacrificial, last-resort rituals, or information about traveling. He slaps the journal closed, frustrated that he believed there was going to be some miraculous section he hadn’t read at least a dozen times that would help him right now.

Stiles briefly wonders if his mom was subpar like him, and it’s just not in his blood to become a _powerful_ emissary, and is doomed to just be the _token_ emissary. The thought that his mother was anything but amazing ignites a fire deep within him. His mom was incredible, she could do anything, she was perfect, and nothing will ever convince Stiles otherwise.

Stiles just sucks, that’s all.

In a fit of rage at his own failure, Stiles proceeds to kick everything in his circle all over the room and scream at the top of his lungs for anyone in the otherworlds who might be listening.

Stiles looks down to see a splinter from one of his crystals and picks it up to admire, then he does one of the most reckless things he’s ever done (and there’s a long list of them).

He drags the sharp edge of the purple stone from the base of his index finger diagonally across his palm, digging it in as deeply as he can. He’s rewarded with a bright pulse of fresh blood running down his forearm.

He healed in the tree, he can do it again.

When nothing happens Stiles worries that maybe the reason he hasn’t been able to travel is because his magic left him. Maybe he was such a massive disappointment that it decided to cut its losses.

Stiles heads to the bathroom attached to his and Derek’s room when the bedroom door slams open.

His previously silent room blooms with sound from the two intruders, and the noise from downstairs. He hears doors slamming against walls, and heavy feet pounding on the porch in quick succession. Voices filter up the stairs as his pack shouts at each other.

Stiles’ senses are so distracted by the racket that he doesn’t register Derek standing in front of him, inspecting him with worried words.

Erica is surveying their room looking for a threat, and Derek finally shakes Stiles out of his stupor.

“Stiles,” Derek grabs his face. “Look at me.”

Stiles lets his eyes meet Derek’s. He should be used to the bright assortment of earth tones, but the colors still knock him off his feet when he’s this close.

“What happened?” Derek asks, relaxing slightly now that he has Stiles’ attention.

“Nothing,” Stiles lies. “It was an accident.”

Derek doesn’t have to be a werewolf to know that Stiles is lying straight to his face. ”This wasn’t an accident.”

Stiles doesn’t confirm or deny, pushing past the accusation. “You damn near gave me a heart attack, what do you want?” He looks around at the result of his temper tantrum, and knows he is doing nothing to ease Derek’s nerves.

“We could smell the blood,” Derek says like it’s obvious. “We thought Peter was here.” He glances around at the mess. “What happened in here?”

Again, Stiles doesn’t respond as he should. “I will never understand how this room can be sound proof, but not smell proof.”

“Stiles.” Derek drops his hands from Stiles’ face. Stiles gives him a serious look of _not talking about it._

Derek lets out a sigh and turns to Erica, who is awkwardly standing in the corner of their room, unsure of how to make a natural exit, or how to enter the conversation. “Erica, will you please go round everyone up and let them know Stiles is okay?”

Erica gives a small nod and runs a hand across Stiles’ shoulders as she passes behind him.

Once she’s out of the room, Derek shuts the door for privacy, and Stiles braces himself for what is to come, blood from his hand pooling on the floor below them.

Stiles doesn’t move, paralysed by the stream of self-recrimination running through his mind at his own recklessness.

Derek watches him for a minute before he sighs and drags Stiles to the bathroom to bandage his hand.

Stiles drops his head in shame. Not only has he caused unease in his pack, but now Derek is going to pick up on the fact that something is seriously wrong with Stiles’ magic.

“I can manage this, you should go take care of everyone,” Stiles offers.

“Shut up.”

Stiles sighs and hops up onto the counter while Derek reaches into the cabinet to gather their first aid kit (only kept on hand for the few humans in the pack). Stiles sits in silence, keeping pressure on the still bleeding cut, and watches Derek sort through the items he will need. After another minute of silence, Stiles speaks. “Will you please say something?”

“ _Now_ you want to talk?” Derek asks without looking at him.

“What? Of course…” Stiles responds, confused.

Derek looks up and takes Stiles’ palm. “You didn’t seem to want to hear anything I was saying out there, so why would you now?”

Stiles flinches, and not because of the attention his wound is getting as Derek douses it in alcohol.

“Derek… the others were… I’m sorry,” Stiles offers, finally hissing at the sting.

Derek looks up after a moment to confirm that Stiles is genuine. “It’s okay. Now, tell me what happened.”

Stiles’ first instinct is to redirect, but he forces himself to reply honestly. “I couldn’t find your mom or Laura.”

Derek nods, and drops his eyes to inspect how deep and precise the cut is. “You’ll figure it out,” he reassures Stiles. Derek already knows that there is an issue, because Stiles hasn’t been able to take him back.

Stiles nods, loving Derek for having faith in him, and hating himself because he’s sure he will let him down.

Derek looks between Stiles wound and the suture kit. “This doesn’t seem to be healing.”

“You noticed too, huh?” Stiles sighs, his face sagging with the weight of his failure.

“Hey,” Derek responds quickly. “It’s okay. That night could have just been a one-time thing.”

Stiles shrugs.

“Do you want to do this here, or go to Melissa?” Derek asks holding up the needle and thread.

“I’d rather you do it,” Stiles admits. He can’t imagine letting anyone else see evidence of his failure first hand, and he doesn’t want to leave his and Derek’s room anytime soon.

Derek nods. “Do you want a local anesthetic? Melissa gave us a -”

“No,” Stiles answers quickly. “Just get it over with. And don’t do… you know… the thing.” He literally just sliced his own hand open, he doesn’t want Derek to take the pain he deserves for his own recklessness. He’s always been the weakest link in the pack, and refuses to use painkillers because he considers his high pain tolerance a strength.

Derek threads the needle and rinses the cut one more time before looking up at Stiles with honest eyes. “I know you did this to yourself.”

Stiles starts to argue and Derek grabs the side of his head.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t know why you did, but when you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll listen.” Derek  brings his lips to Stiles’ forehead. “You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

Stiles fights the burn in his eyes in response to how kind Derek can be, and tilts his head up to meet Derek’s lips with his own. “I love you.”

Derek kisses him again with firm lips, before pulling back and washing his hands to stitch Stiles’ wound.

When Derek is finished, Stiles drops his head forward to rest against Derek’s shoulder. He really doesn’t deserve the comfort, but he’s falling apart and doesn’t know how to pull his shit together.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispers.

Derek presses his mouth to the top of Stiles’ head, and wraps his arms around him. “Don’t be.”

Stiles closes his eyes and tries to think of a way to explain away his actions when he faces the rest of the pack. Like the coward he is, Stiles decides not to.

“I think I’m going to lie down. It’s late, and I’m super tired.”

Derek nods and pulls back to put away the kit.

Stiles has barely slipped from the counter when Allison knocks on the door and pushes it open.

“We have a problem,” she says with more worry in her voice than Stiles has heard in months.

Stiles rushes out of the bathroom, quickly followed by Derek.

“What? Who’s hurt? Is Peter here?” Stiles prays the answer is no, because they seriously aren’t fucking ready!

“No,” she answers with a quick shake of her head. “I was looking up the exact date of the Blood Moon and it’s not a few weeks away like we thought.”

“When is it?” Derek asks.

“Thursday.”

No one breathes.

_Fuck._

The one thing Stiles has been able to actually look up and find written information on, and he fucking botched it.

There’s no excuse for missing this.

Stiles wants to cry. Throw his hands up, and surrender to Peter because he’s really the worst thing that has ever happened to his pack, but he can’t do that. If he breaks, they all will. They are counting on him.

As if to prove his point, Allison looks at him and asks, “So what are we going to do?”

* * *

 

Stiles manages to buy himself time with the promise that he will have a plan tomorrow at the Monday pack meeting.

Stiles skips Harris’ class and opts to spend some alone time in the secret room above the stage. He sits for twenty minutes and absolutely no plan comes to him, not even an idea to pull from. He feels like a sitting duck, like livestock standing in line for slaughter.

Each time that he’s escaped to this room in the past week he’s tried to travel, but he’s already so down that he doesn’t even attempt it today.

Stiles is startled out of his thoughts when the door opens. He doesn’t freak out because he’s already reached maximum anxiety. He’s still trying to decide if he should hide when Lydia comes around the corner with a sharp smile.

“I thought I would find you here.”

Stiles can’t even return her smile because he is literally numb with stress.

“You didn’t show up to Harris’ class, and I just _knew_ you were here. So I turned in my paper and excused myself.”

When Stiles still makes no move to respond she sits down and continues.

“So, what are you doing up here when you should be in class?” She reclines and pulls her feet up under herself on the chase, indicating she has no intention of leaving.

Stiles lets out a long breath and settles back into his bean bag. “Trying to figure out the details of our plan of action before the meeting tonight.” He isn’t ready to tell her he doesn’t have any plan whatsoever.

“I figured as much.” She grins, settling her chin onto her hands on the arm of the chase. “Anything I can help with?”

Stiles shrugs.

“Well, what do you have so far?”

Stiles looks up at the ceiling.

“Stiles.” She sits up straighter. “You do have a plan, right?”

Stiles considers lying but knows that she will see straight through him and just shakes his head once.

“Stiles, honey,” she says. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Have you talked to Derek? Have you asked anyone if they have any ideas?”

Stiles shakes his head again.

“Why?” she begs, actually sounding shocked.

Stiles huffs and sits up with a sardonic laugh. “Because I’m supposed to always be the one with a plan, you’re all counting on me, and I can’t admit that I _don’t have one_.”

She stands up and walks over to crowd onto his beanbag like they did six months ago when the alphas were still around. “You know that isn’t true. We don’t _expect_ you to always have the plan. We are a pack and we all do whatever we can to help.”

Stiles knows she’s right, but he can’t forgive himself. He’s useless.

She taps his chest and sits up. “Now, we have three days to prepare, we have no idea where Peter is, or what he’s up to. So, how do we ensure that we are untouchable when the moon comes to its peak?”

“If I knew the answer to that, Lydia, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Hey.” She smacks his stomach. “Don’t get smart with me. We can do this. Now think.”

Stiles sighs, but does as he’s told.

“We have to also be prepared for Peter to come for you at any minute, not just the night of the Blood Moon.”

“We’re in trouble. I’m going to die. I’m torn between offering myself up and letting Peter take me, and locking myself in Deaton’s clinic for the rest of my life,” Stiles chokes.

“No,” she snaps. “No, no one is going to die.”

“How can you be so sure?” Stiles rolls his eyes.

She climbs up onto the chaise again and pulls out one of the tablets she and Deaton gave everyone for Christmas. “Because I just know.”

Stiles sits up with a bored expression. “Well I appreciate your confidence, but this isn’t a time for false hope.”

“No.” She sighs. “I get these gut feelings, like when something bad is about to happen. I don’t have one right now.”

“Go on,” Stiles prompts, grabbing onto the distraction.

“Nothing supernatural, I don’t think. But every time something is going on, or someone dies, I get these really _bad_ feelings and it gets so bad I could scream.”

“For example?”

She sucks her lip as she thinks. “Like the day that Derek almost died in the abandoned hospital? I was a mess, and all I wanted to do was scream. Even before we got the text from Peter warning us.”

Stiles believes her; Lydia has never been one to exaggerate her abilities. “And you’re not getting one now?”

“Yes and no.”

Stiles bugs his eyes at her.

“It’s not like that night, not like someone is going to die. It’s more like the feeling I got before we tracked Jackson to the underground party when he was the Kanima.” She takes a breath, collecting her thoughts. “It feels like our pack is going to be okay, but _something_ is still going to happen.”

“Great. Awesome. Fantastic.” Stiles throws his hands in the air.

“Look, I could be wrong, asshole. I’m just saying.” She flicks open her tablet to one of the texts. “Okay, back to the plan. I remember something from Morell’s journal that might help.”

Stiles nods, open to any and all ideas.

“Do you think you could do that?” she asks, handing over her tablet. It’s displaying instructions on how to control mountain ash, creating a circle around yourself by throwing the ash into the air. “If you keep mountain ash on you, and you can do this, you can protect yourself when Peter shows his face until we can help you.”

Stiles reads the page and it seems pretty simple, but with the way his magic has been behaving he doesn’t have much faith in himself.

“I think I can,” he lies.

“Perfect. Alright, so you’ll  be prepared for a surprise visit. Then on Thursday we’ll skip school and lock ourselves in at Deaton's. We don’t have to worry about Peter finding out that we’re onto him because by then he will have already consumed the vials he has.”

Stiles frowns, but nods. He was supposed to be the one to come up with a plan. This shouldn’t have been this hard. It’s so simple.

“Alright, so now we have a plan.”

Stiles nods again.

“Stiles, look at me.”

Stiles does as he’s told, trying to keep his thoughts from bleeding through his features.

“It’s okay that you had help, two minds are better than one, and yours is the only one I ever want to team up with.”

Stiles smiles at that. They are kind of perfect when they work together. She’s the only reason he got through the last couple of years.

“And, I know something else is eating you up, but I won’t force you to talk about it with me. Just-- tell someone, okay?”

“This another gut feeling of yours? Because it might not be as great as you think--”

“Will you be quiet? No, it’s not a gut thing, it’s a best friend thing. I know you.”

Stiles bites his cheek with a smile. “What do you say we get ready for next period?”

She stands, holding her arm out for his and they make their way out of their room.

* * *

 

It’s the day of the Blood Moon and Stiles feels better than he has in months. After the meeting Monday night to go over the plan, Stiles attempted the mountain ash circle... and it worked. It freaking _worked_. That was a major thing. Stiles ended up screaming for Derek who couldn’t hear him through their soundproof room, so he phoned him instead, demanding he come to their room right then.

Stiles broke down in tears the second he saw Derek about how his magic hadn’t left him and that he wasn’t useless.

Derek in turn was a mess, stuck outside of the circle, unable to get to Stiles and comfort his shaking figure.

When Stiles realized what was going on he stepped out and Derek grabbed him within a fraction of a second and peppered kisses all over him.

They finally talked that night and Stiles told him how he had been feeling the last six months, and how scared he had been.

Derek admitted that he had a feeling that Stiles was doubting himself, but didn’t want to pressure Stiles any further, and was waiting for him to come to him with his troubles.

Stiles thanked Derek in multiple positions for many hours that night for being the very best thing that ever happened to him. Within the safety of a mountain ash circle around their bed, of course.

Now, Stiles is safe within the roan oak paneling of Deaton’s clinic and has created a nest for himself surrounded by books to fill the time whilst he and Deaton wait for the sun to set.

He isn’t delusional, he knows he isn’t going to find any practical clues on how to use his magic in Deaton’s books, but he might pick up some tips on how to deal with the next big bad that comes through town.

His phone rings around 3:15 when he would normally be getting out of school.

“Stiles, where are you?” his dad demands over the phone.

Stiles jerks upright, his book falling from his lap. “Just left school, why?”

“Are you with Scott?” his dad asks hurriedly.

The Sheriff still doesn’t know anything about the supernatural, and it’s rare for his dad to be anything but calm on the phone, so Stiles is panicking. “No, Dad. You’re scaring me.”

“Dammit,” his father huffs. There’s a commotion in the background and Stiles does his best to remain cool. “Call him and find out where he is and call me back.”

“Okay, but tell me what is going on!” Stiles demands.

“There’s a fire at the hospital.”

“Oh my God.”

His dad calms down slightly. “I was worried that you two went there after school, sorry for scaring you. Call Scott.”

“I’m on it. Be careful,” Stiles tells his dad before hanging up. He calls Scott and prays he answers. Stiles’ luck must be turning, because Scott answers on the first ring.

“Stiles? You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Where are you?” Stiles asks quickly.

“In the preserve with Isaac and Allison like we planned.”

Stiles doesn’t complain again about how he hates that part of the plan. They should all be in the clinic with him. It’s safer. But Derek--freaking Derek--insisted that he should patrol for danger. It was only a matter of minutes before the whole pack demanded to help. “Okay, buddy. I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to stay calm, then call my dad.”

“Stiles, you’re freaking me out.”

Stiles steadies himself. “My dad just called and said there’s a fire at the hospital. He doesn’t have any further information, but he wanted to make sure we weren’t there.”

“My mom!” Scott yells.

“I know, I know. Breathe, Scotty.”

Once Scott stops hyperventilating, he tells Allison and Isaac that he has to go. Stiles reminds Scott to call the Sheriff, and assures him that everything will be okay.

When will they ever catch a break?

* * *

 

Deaton leaves to assist with the chaos at the hospital, leaving Stiles alone in the clinic. As much as it’s eating him up that he can’t go help his dad, he dutifully remains safe within the walls of the clinic and tries to read between checking his phone for updates every ten seconds.

It’s confirmed that his pack is safe and are helping as much as his dad will allow (which isn’t very much). This translates as Scott serving as a distraction while the rest of them run inside and evacuate those who can walk, and putting the fire out around the patients who are bedridden.

It’s only been a little over an hour and already three of Stiles’ fingers are bleeding. Stiles looks to see if they are healing, and just when he thinks they are, he picks the scab and more blood blooms.

Great.

Stiles is reading up on Kitsunes when he hears the door to the clinic chime as it’s opened. Stiles places his book face down on the small mattress he’s made his nest in. It’s the same mattress Derek slept in after he almost died, but Stiles is doing his best not to think about that.

He heads to the front of the clinic, calling out to the visitor. None of his friends have texted him about heading over so it must be one of Deaton’s clients. “What can I help you w-”

Stiles freezes when he rounds the corner.

Peter is leaning languidly against the counter, unable to pass the barrier. “You can start by assisting me in a very delicate matter tonight.”

Stiles swallows thickly. Here he is alone, with only some magical wood to keep Peter’s filthy claws out of his oh-so-delicate skin.

“Stiles,” Peter nods. “Good to see you. It’s been a while. How’s Derek?”

Stiles doesn’t know if Peter is aware that he knows what he’s been up to, or is still trying to play his game and lure Stiles out, so Stiles decides to play along and plops himself into Deaton’s chair. He shoves his hands in his pockets, aiming to look casual, but getting a firm grip on his jar of mountain ash, should something go wrong. “Derek? He’s great. You?”

Peter gives a sickeningly sweet smile. “I’m _phenomenal_ , and only getting better.”

“Good to hear.” Stiles forces a smile.

Peter shifts, trying to look as though he’s only visiting with an old friend. “And you? I heard a rumor after the alphas were taken care of that you might share the same gift your mother had.”

Stiles tries to keep the shock from his face at the fact that Peter knew about his mother. “Gift?”

Peter clicks his tongue. “Don’t play dumb, Stiles. I know all about your gift, and I’m wounded that you didn’t tell me yourself. I _am_ your soon-to-be husband’s uncle after all.”

The smile Peter delivers makes Stiles’ skin crawl. “Hey now, there has been no talk of marriage, man. Damn.”

“But you are his _mate_ ,” Peter states matter-of-factly.

Stiles shrugs, because honestly, since the night he and Derek got together, they haven’t really talked about what a mate is. Stiles makes a note to bring it up later, assuming he makes it out of this alive.

“Where is my nephew, anyway?” Peter asks, looking around. “I’d like to catch up with him too.”

“He’s with the rest of the town, trying to save the patients at the hospital. Haven’t you heard?” Stiles asks with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh yes, I think I caught it on the radio as I was driving over here.” Peter draws his brows together. “Why aren’t you there helping?”

“Oh, you know me, research machine!” Stiles stretches the muscles that have been hunched over textbooks all day.

Peter walks toward the swinging door that completes the protective circle of roan oak paneling. “Anything I can help with?”

“I think I got it,” Stiles says flippantly. “I should actually get back to the books.”

“Oh come on, let me help. All you have to do is open the gate and maybe we can get whatever answer you’re looking for fast enough for you to make it home for dinner.”

“Really. I’m good.”

“Stiles.”

“Peter.”

They stare at each other a moment, and Stiles tightens his hand on his jar in his pocket. He considers telling Peter that he should go find Derek and catch up, but he can’t risk Peter hurting Derek or any of the pack. They should have all stayed at the freaking clinic like he said.

Peter walks the length of the counter, tapping his fingers along the way. “I learned something rather interesting a couple months ago while I was traveling.”

“Oh yeah?” Stiles asks, jutting his chin out and trying to show interest.

“I learned that the ritual you performed for the alphas wouldn’t have worked.”

“Really?” Stiles turns the corners of his mouth down. “Good thing they didn’t know that, right?” Stiles forces a laugh.

Peter turns with a crooked fond smile. “You’re good, Stiles.”

Stiles looks around with raised eyebrows.

“But not good enough.”

“Good enough for what?”

“Playing dumb.” He plants himself in place, and turns his full attention back to Stiles. “I know you know why I’m here, and not many could play me like you’ve been trying. I commend the effort.” He gives a dramatic silent round of applause. “And I also know that in order to complete the ritual, the alpha has to eat your _heart_.”

Stiles considers playing dumb a little longer, but he isn’t going to continue the act when it serves no purpose. He gets out of the chair and walks straight forward to stand directly in front of Peter. “Then you also know that I _am_ like my mother, and I’ll destroy anyone who tries.”

Peter cocks his head with a smile, like one would at a puppy who’s growling at a leaf. “Oh, I’m sure.”

Stiles crosses his arms and raises a brow at Peter, daring him to try.

Peter watches him a moment, before nodding once and walking backwards to the entrance. “I’ll be seeing you, Stiles.”


	2. Make me feel like someone else.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek deserves an award for how patient and understanding he's been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the second day of Christmas I gave to my boo! Two locked out werewolves.
> 
> Since it's near two in the morning, I figure I'll go ahead and post this :)
> 
> Chapter title comes from [All to Myself](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gp-ie6iQ_V0) by Marianas Trench. (Reminder: Each chap will start with a short flashback for Peter.)

Peter made his way north in search of a weak alpha, and stumbled across the territory of an allied pack that Talia used to assist. After a few moments of consideration, he realized it was a fortunate opportunity.

The pack would welcome a stray Hale. They likely heard about the fire, so Peter could wax his tragic story of loss, and ask to join their pack. Once he gained their trust, he would then be able to challenge the alpha.

While reacquainting himself with the town, he found that the pack was already under attack. He remained hidden long enough to observe the situation before deciding if he should move on or not.

He found that a pack of Alphas were recruiting the alpha of this pack. Peter kept to the shadows until he could figure out if he could use the Alpha Pack to his advantage somehow.

* * *

* * *

 

Five months after Peter made his intentions known, Derek once again finds himself unable to enter his own home. Derek opens his senses and focuses on the inside of his house for Stiles’ heartbeat and finds it slightly faster than normal. Stiles normally works himself up when he’s testing a new spell, so Derek doesn’t fret.

Stiles finally has a pretty good grip on his magic, and Derek couldn’t be happier. Because Stiles is so pleased, Derek can’t find it in himself to be annoyed even when he regularly gets barred from his own home. That doesn’t, however, mean that the last five months have been a cakewalk.

The _problem_ is that Stiles does what he wants.

Derek knew when he fell for Stiles that things weren’t going to be easy; Stiles would always be reckless and strong willed, especially given the circumstances they got together under, but eventually the universe has to give them a break, right?

_Wrong_.

The first six months of them being together were rough because Stiles kept everything from him, and suffered alone. The last five months have been difficult because Stiles tells him everything. Starting with the night of the last Blood Moon.

When Stiles told Derek about Peter and what all he said, Derek’s first impulse was to find Peter immediately. They knew he was in town and Derek might have been able to locate him by scent.

Stiles, however, did not approve of this plan, and refused to let Derek leave. Sure, Derek could have walked out and Stiles couldn’t have stopped him, but then Stiles begged to go home. He said they at least had twenty-four hours of peace. There was no way Peter would try anything soon, not now that they were onto him.

Derek caved to Stiles’ pleas and took him back to their home, curling up protectively around his body on the mattress after Stiles circled their bed in a mountain ash circle.

Derek is clear-sighted enough to know that he’ll bend to Stiles’ every whim, and the past five months have only proven this point.

It was mid-February when Stiles’ magic light bulb finally _clicked_.

Derek thinks back as he makes his way around the house to the back door, replaying the heated exchange between Stiles and Deaton. Arguments between Stiles and Deaton typically happened at least once a day. Stiles would ask questions about how to use his magic, Deaton would say something cryptic, and steam would roll out of Stiles’ ears. It would have been comical, were their lives not in danger.

“Why do you keep giving me all this weird shit?!” Stiles had shouted, tossing the crystal he’d just been given at Deaton’s retreating back. “This does _nothing_ for me. Don’t you get that? Are you trying to make me feel worse?”

Deaton had turned around with a calm expression.

“You helped my mom…” Stiles said quietly, “Why won’t you help me?”

Deaton had crossed his arms and responded in a smooth voice. “Stiles, I understand your frustration. However, I assisted your mom only by providing the ingredients she needed.”

Stiles threw his head back and groaned toward the ceiling. “Oh my God!” After dragging his hand across his face, Stiles continued to complain as he plopped himself down in a chair. “You’re always talking about _ingredients_ and _tools_ . I’m not a culinary artist, nor an architect. I’m an emissary and I need instructions. _Detailed instructions_. For the love of God, give me something.”

“Tell me something, Stiles. Did Michelangelo have a reference when he painted the Sistine Chapel?”

Stiles sighed, pulling at the skin under his eyes. “And now you’re talking about artists.”

Deaton gave a hint of a smile when Stiles’ eyes widened, and he finally started to get it.

“Oh my God. That’s it! It’s me! I’m the- Deaton, I could kiss you right now. I take back every mean thing I’ve ever said about you.” Stiles jumped up, vibrating with excitement.

“You’ve said bad things about me?” Deaton asked in good nature.

Stiles only smiled, then dragged Derek out of the clinic to explain his revelation on the way home. “I’m Michelangelo, Gordon Ramsay, and Norman Foster!”

“You’ve lost me,” Derek responded, taking the turn that would lead them past the preserve and toward their house.

“They all figured out how to do something in a way no one had ever done before.” Stiles looked at him like that should suddenly make sense.

When Derek looked blankly back at him, Stiles took mercy, licked his lips, and explained.

“Deaton has been giving me all the ingredients and tools an emissary needs to practice, but _I_ have to figure out how to use them. _I_ have to come up with recipes, and blueprints, and create _my own_ masterpiece!”

From then on Stiles spent every spare minute researching each herb’s use and history, every crystal’s meaning, and the odd organic materials Deaton had given him. A month later he figured out how to expedite the healing of Allison’s broken wrist.

Allison had broken her wrist during one of their sparring sessions because she demanded she participate in training as an equal. Stiles made it his personal goal to heal her, and he did.

Stiles has taken to his magic like a baby bird taking flight for the first time. He may fail, but he always seems to get back up and figure it out.

Derek has done his best to be involved in Stiles’ new practice. He tried to be supportive, and help toss ideas around but after a week of Stiles rattling off different crystals and herbs and what they promote, Derek found himself lost, and has been taking a more subtle approach. He’s accepted that he has zero chance of being able to remember the meaning and quality of each magical element the way that Stiles has.

As Derek approaches the back porch steps it’s already clear to him that he will not be entering the house from this point either. It’s as though there is an invisible force that paralyzes his feet and arms. He finds himself standing three feet from the back door, unable to lift his arm to turn the handle.

With a sigh, Derek makes himself comfortable on one of the patio chairs and focuses on Stiles talking to himself in their room upstairs.

Stiles hasn’t given up on fortifying their home. He argues that he can never be sure if it’s working because they aren’t under direct attack, and he hasn’t been able to test his reinforcements. One night a few months back Lydia countered with, “How can you be sure it hasn’t been tested? If it worked you would never know.”

Lydia’s logic effectively broke Stiles and he stood there, mouth agape, for a full minute before he pointed at her with squinted eyes and made his way back upstairs.

The only time they _know_ that it works is when Stiles blocks _everyone_ from entering the house, including the pack itself. The pack has spent hours outside training while Stiles toils frantically to reverse the cast. He’s come out to join them in tears once or twice because he couldn’t figure out how to undo his work.

Occasionally, they will all stand at different doors for hours until one of them manages to open something. It doesn’t make Stiles feel any better, though.

One night, Derek tried to reassure Stiles that the house was safe, but Stiles claimed that he couldn’t stop. He needed to figure out how to protect the entire property. His life goal is to protect the whole of Beacon Hills. It’s conversations like this that remind Derek of what he has.

This admission isn’t what is keeping Derek from pestering Stiles to take a break from his constant work.

A couple months back, Stiles was spending the eleventh consecutive pack night up in their room practicing. Derek could see the strain it was putting on his betas, so he convinced Stiles to stay downstairs and at least watch a movie with them. Later that night, after everyone had gone home or to bed, Stiles’ careful facade broke.

They climbed into bed and Stiles rolled away from Derek, folding in on himself. Derek curled himself around him and asked him what was wrong, Stiles put a valiant effort into deflecting, but he was too close to his breaking point.

With a shaky voice, he whispered, “I know you and the pack want me at pack nights, but we can’t afford it.”

“Taking a couple hours off a week isn’t going to hurt,” Derek tried to reassure him, with a soft kiss to Stiles’ nape.

“Derek,” Stiles choked. “You don’t-” Stiles swallowed hard, trying to get his breathing under control. “You seem to think I’ve got this whole magic thing figured out, and I love you for it, but I don’t. I might _never_ be good at this.”

Derek remained silent, stroking Stiles’ arm with his own draped over him.

“I spent six months feeling worthless, and utterly useless because I couldn’t get a grip on my magic.”

“But you figured it out,” Derek tried.

Stiles finally rolled over. “No, I figured out where to start, and I need years of practice to be good at it, but we only have six months. If I don’t figure out how to defeat Peter come July, there is a very real chance that someone will die.”

“No one is going to die,” Derek promised.

Stiles shed a single tear before responding with his own promise. “I hope with everything I am that you’re right, but on the off chance you’re wrong, you need to know that I _will_ sacrifice myself to save our pack.”

Derek knew better than to argue with him. Part of Stiles’ promise to tell Derek everything was a reminder that he would still do whatever he felt was necessary. Derek couldn’t stop him unless he had a better idea.

Since that night, Derek doesn’t pull Stiles away from his practice for anything.

Derek is pulled out of his memories as he hears Erica making her way around the house. He sees her belly first. At almost eight months pregnant, Erica refuses to accept that she should slow down. She still goes on runs with the pack on full moons and refuses to sit out during sparring. If the pack holds their ground and refuses to let her spar with them, she ends up getting in her own training by ambushing them into fighting her unofficially.

“Hey, Derek,” she greets him with a wave. “We locked out again?”

Derek smiles at her, unable to hide his pleasure at seeing her bright glow, and proof that the Hale pack is finally growing again. “It would seem so.”

She ruffles his hair before she takes her own seat on the chaise lounge, and settles in to wait until they can get inside. Luckily it’s a nice summer day, so the time on the porch isn’t unpleasant in the least.

“Have you and Boyd decided what you two are going to do?” Derek asks, genuinely invested in the futures of his pack.

She shrugs, “Still the same plan as we discussed after graduation. We are going to renew our lease when it comes up and take a few years off from college while we raise the pup.”

Derek frowns. “I’ve told you, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure that we could all help out so that you two can go to college too. I already offered to pay your tuition, so if it’s a matter of funds-”

“Derek, stop!” she laughs. “It’s really okay. Neither of us are desperate to go to college anyway, so let us use this excuse for at least a year.”

Derek rolls his eyes at her.

“Not to mention I’m the one who got myself knocked up, the others don’t need the added stress while they are in college either.” She rearranges herself into a more comfortable position. “Boyd was just promoted to location manager, and I’m a month away from getting my beautician's licence. We will be fine.”

“If you ever need any-”

“We’ll ask you first thing,” she drawls sarcastically.

They sit silently, listening to the birds singing around them, and Derek finds his eyes tracing back to her belly. “Barely eight months, and you already look as though you’ll pop any minute,” Derek says fondly.

She strokes her stomach. “Crazy, right?”

“How are you feeling this month?”

She groans. “Like I could eat a cow, oh my God.”

The laugh that breaks free of Derek is one hundred percent genuine.

“Seriously, I’m hungry all the time,” she giggles, “and my nerves are on edge. Imagine the hour before the full moon rises, and multiply it by at least three hundred. That’s me all the time.”

“You have to be exaggerating,” Derek grins.

“Believe me, I wish I was!” she exclaims. “When I am around people, ninety percent of the time I am talking myself down to keep myself from ripping out throats, and when I’m by myself I’m doing the same thing because I get mad that I’m _alone_.”

Derek can’t fight the bittersweet memories of his mother helping the women of his family navigate their pregnancy mood swings.

“Don’t tell Boyd I told you… Who am I kidding, you hardly talk as it is, but Boyd has spent the last month sleeping on the floor of our room because I get too hot with him in bed with me, in the hall because I can’t listen to him breathe a second longer, or on the couch because I’m mad at him for something he did in a dream.”

Derek smiles, but can’t find it in himself to join in her laughter as he drops his head. “I’m sorry I’m not more help.”

She clicks her tongue. “Oh, stop that.”

Derek can’t accept her forgiveness because he should be helping her through this.

“Besides,” she adds, “this ugly-ass brown bag Stiles gave me last week has done wonders, and I only freak out about half as much. All good.”

At the mention of Stiles’ name, Derek stands up to test the door again, and finds himself in the same situation he was in an hour ago.

“How is Stiles?” Erica asks, concern in her voice.

Derek pulls out his phone, getting ready to finally call Stiles and tell him they are locked out. “Still killing himself with exhaustion,” Derek sighs, hitting dial.

Erica frowns, and turns her head to listen in on the phone in Derek’s hand.

Stiles answers after Derek hears something crash to the ground upstairs. “Nothing is on fire, I swear!”

“Good to know.” Derek smirks toward Erica’s giggling form. “Any chance Erica and I can come in soon?”

“Shit!” Stiles bites. “Fuck.” There’s another crash upstairs. “Dammit, yeah. Jus-”

“Take your time,” Derek tries to soothe Stiles.

“No, I mean-” Stiles sighs. “Sorry, I just knocked pretty much everything I was working on over, and-” He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Give me- give me ten minutes and I promise you will be able to come in.”

“Ten minutes,” Derek confirms.

Stiles has already hung up by the time Derek tells him he loves him.

Erica solidifies her position as Derek’s favorite beta by not acknowledging that heavy moment and steamrolls into a new topic.

“How long until you have to buy more fire extinguishers?” She smiles teasingly.

Derek rolls his eyes and sits down. Back in March, Derek was in town buying groceries for pack night when he received a text from Stiles saying _‘pick up like 15 fire extinguishers because this spark thing is real af’_

For at least two months, Stiles would set something on fire at least once a day. Luckily, the house hasn’t suffered any damage, because of the previously placed protection wards.

Stiles won’t admit in words that he made the house fireproof on purpose, but Derek knows he’s right by the small smile Stiles gave him when he asked.

Derek and Erica laugh about all the occasions Stiles has set fire to things and how he manages to look surprised every time, like it hasn’t happened a hundred times before.

Their laughter is cut off by the back door opening to Stiles. “Okay, come on, you should be able to get in now.” Stiles stands out of the way with a finger in his mouth as he chews at any remaining cuticle.

Derek steps in first in case something weird happens, then holds the door open for Erica.

“I’m really sorry about that guys, I was trying to extend the ward to the edge of the porches, but I guess I just made the existing one extra strong.” Stiles explains as he scratches his head.

“No worries,” Erica smiles as she makes for the fridge. “You owe me dinner, though.”

Stiles gapes as he follows her, “Because that makes sense, how?”

She turns to him with a faux wounded expression. “Because you starved the baby, and we’re hungry!”

“You’re evil.” Stiles squints with a point. “Fine.” Stiles turns to Derek with a bright smile. “O'Alpha o'mine, would you mind making our guest dinner tonight so that she doesn’t starve?” He bats his eyes for effect, and Derek takes advantage of the moment.

Derek closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Stiles while he has the chance. “What’s in it for me?” he challenges, looking into Stiles’ eyes.

Stiles wiggles his eyebrows in reply, leans in to plant a filthy kiss to his lips, and drags his tongue across Derek’s stubble as he makes his way toward his ear to state his terms.

“Ew, ugh, gross!” Erica gags, pulling them out of the moment. “I already have morning sickness, give me a break!”

Stiles laughs, but pulls away and grabs Erica’s wrist. “Come on, I have something for you.”

Derek heads toward the fridge to finish making a snack for Erica and Stiles, because honestly, Stiles doesn’t eat enough. When he _does_ , his appetite can rival that of any beta’s.

Stiles winks at Derek as he passes, and Derek feels a blush immediately rise to his cheeks because moments between just the two of them rarely happen during the day.

Derek’s entire system is still on overload when a broad hand connects with a loud slap to his ass as Stiles passes him on the way to the stairs, Erica still in tow.

Derek would be lying if he said the contact didn’t go straight to his dick. He grabs fruits, cheese, and deli meat without much thought and follows the two up the stairs as quickly as he can, not wanting to be away from Stiles a moment longer.

Erica excuses herself to the bathroom and Derek spreads the food across the bed to begin preparing as Stiles goes back to his clear glass whiteboard that he hauled over from his dad's house a few months ago. He uses the board to keep track of current experiments, successes, and failures. When something is tested at least three times with successful outcomes, he documents the ingredients and process. His journals will fill a bookshelf one day.

Derek looks around at the room and notices another bookshelf has been added since the day before.

Stiles has taken over half the room with storage and workspace for his practice. Crystals, herbs, other organic material, and notes line the walls and tables. He still can’t figure out how to organize everything because he’s yet to identify everything. _‘You can’t organize what you don’t know, Derek.’_

Derek hasn’t complained because the last thing he wants is for Stiles to move his work to another room. Derek may never see him.

Stiles is standing in front of the glass board, and Derek can see his face through the pane. Stiles’ brows are drawn tight as he chews on the butt of his marker.

Derek takes in the state of Stiles’ hair. It’s longer than it’s ever been. Derek’s not sure Stiles has cut it since they started their ‘fake’ relationship almost a year ago. His hair reaches his collar and then flips out in all different directions. The hair around his face is usually shoved forcefully back (until it falls forward three seconds later), or pushed behind his ears (until it falls forward _five_ seconds later). Mostly, it stays in his face.

Derek doesn’t understand why Stiles won’t cut it, because it clearly gets in his way, but considering Stiles doesn’t bathe unless Derek drags him into the shower, he really isn’t too surprised that Stiles doesn’t do anything about it.

Derek follows the lines of his shoulders and the way they bulge over his biceps, leading to the long corded muscle of his forearms, crossed and framing Stiles’ firm chest.

Training is one of the few things aside from eating, sleeping, and using the restroom that Stiles makes time for. He may miss pack meetings, pack nights, or full moon runs, but he never misses physical training and sparring practice.

Stiles’ lean muscle definitely attests to his commitment to never be useless again.

Derek lets his eyes wander across the lines of Stiles’ body through the glass, and wonders what he did to deserve someone so beautiful. When Derek’s gaze ventures to Stiles’ face he finds eyes locked on his, and a sly smirk pointed his direction.

Embarrassed, Derek turns back to the food spread across their bed, and starts making a tray of fresh slices.

“Hey,” Stiles calls quietly.

Derek looks up to shining eyes.

“I love you,” Stiles smiles.

Derek fights a grin and the burn at the base of his neck as he turns away to finish making their snack.

“You guys realize that no one needs a shower with that many shower heads, right?” Erica complains, coming back into the room.

“Whatever do you mean?” Stiles asks innocently, with a hand to his chest.

Erica clicks her tongue. ”You’re rotten, you know that?”

Derek lets a small chuckle slip at Stiles’ offended jaw.

She turns on him next. “Don’t laugh, _you_ spoil him. This is _your_ fault.”

“You bet he does,” Stiles winks before rushing to one of his workstations. Time for socializing is officially over, and it’s back to business. “Alright, so I listened to you complain about the burlap for the last month, and I think I’ve found a solution.”

Erica crosses her arms over her stomach, where a rough burlap pouch the size of a playing card dangles from her left wrist. “It’s not just the texture, Stiles. It’s awkward, you’re lucky I’ve been wearing it at all.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Stiles placates, gathering something from his desk. He turns around, brandishing a blue cord with something that Derek can’t identify hanging from it. “It’s a locket. I managed to make everything fit in there, added a shard of jasper to nurture, and kyanite to balance your energies and tame your anger.”

Erica takes the pendant to admire, running her thumb along the metal, searching for imperfections that may irritate her skin. “I swear to God, Stilinski. If I put this on and burst into flames, I’m taking you down with me.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but nods his acceptance of her threat before he lifts the cord to tie around her neck.

She turns and lifts her hair for him, and holds the pendant so he can tie it at the right length. She drops her hair when he’s done and turns around.

“Perfect,” he smiles, as she fiddles with it. “Now, you know the deal, you call me if you start feeling anything weird or feel like your anger is worse, _anything_ . Take it off _immediately_ and call me.”

“I know, I know. Thanks, mom.” Erica giggles, pushing him slightly, before the food Derek has prepared grabs her attention.

Stiles isn’t as easily distracted and goes back to his desk to start sorting through unidentified crystals and the database which is always open on his laptop.

Derek loads up a plate with food and walks over to Stiles. “Eat this.”

Stiles responds without looking up from his web page. “Sure, thanks. Just put it there.”

“Stiles.”

“What?” he asks, clicking another link.

“Eat.”

“I will.”

“Now.”

Stiles taps his keyboard with slight irritation, before sighing and looking up at Derek and nodding. He takes the plate and dramatically shoves the entire pile of deli meat in his mouth.

Derek rolls his eyes, and bends down. Pushing the hair out of his face, Derek kisses his forehead.

Stiles hums at the contact and chews slower, leaning into Derek’s lips. Derek stands back up and moves behind Stiles’ chair, running his hands through Stiles’ hair while he eats, taking any opportunity for skin to skin contact.

Stiles closes his eyes, and rests against Derek as he picks at his plate aimlessly.

Derek desperately wants Erica to leave because he needs to pin Stiles down and pretend that they are both normal people. That they aren’t preparing for yet another life or death battle. That they are just two people who found each other and are trying to start a future together.

Their interactions have come to revolve around training, pack, and sex. Their relationship isn’t suffering necessarily, because the sex is still phenomenal, but it isn’t the same as it was before Christmas. Each time is hurried, or desperate. Happening in moments where they need an escape, or reassurance that they still have each other.

It’s not just the sex though. Derek misses falling asleep with Stiles in his arms. Most nights Stiles is working under a dim desk lamp, and Derek falls asleep alone.

Derek misses Stiles curling up against him while they watch movies with the pack on Wednesdays.

He misses Stiles cooking, and crayon notes in the kitchen.

He misses Stiles’ playful banter at pack meetings.

He misses his laughter.

His smile.

His easy way with life.

He misses _Stiles_.

He’s not fool enough to believe that after they get through this that Stiles will go back to exactly who he was before, but he hopes that at least a little of the old him settles back in.

* * *

 

After Erica leaves, Derek makes his way upstairs and starts to get ready for bed while Stiles continues identifying the large collection of items Deaton has given him.

“Would you say this is more caramel, or honey colored?” he asks, holding up a crystal to the light.

“Honey,” Derek responds from his spot on the bed, wishing that for once Stiles would come to bed at a decent hour.

Stiles accepts his answer and keeps working.

Derek slides under the covers, tucks an arm under his pillow, and closes his eyes. He thinks about Stiles in the sunlight, and how pale he’s grown in the last few months.

He’s trying not to drag Stiles outside and demand he rejoin society. He promised Stiles that he would be supportive until the threat of Peter was no longer hanging over them. He just can’t help but think that after Peter is taken care of, it’s only a matter of time before another threat rears its ugly head, and Stiles will seclude himself again and fall back into the same routine.

Derek opens his eyes to see if Stiles is coming to bed anytime soon, or is going to fall asleep on his desk like usual.

Derek tries to remain awake until Stiles falls asleep so he can carry him to bed. Unlike back when Stiles had spent night after night cooking for Christmas, and Derek would carry him to bed after midnight, Derek doesn’t clean up after Stiles. He couldn’t if he tried.

Stiles hasn’t moved from his spot and is holding something against the light of his lamp. He glances back and sees Derek is still awake. “Did you realize Deaton gave me a tooth?” he asks in awe as he twists the sharp edge in the light. “I can’t tell what kind it is, but I’m leaning toward shark, and if it is, then this could be really helpful in getting you to control your full shift.”

Derek’s first impulse is to defend himself, but he knows that Stiles is just trying to help. Derek has only managed the full shift a handful of times, and he isn’t able to do it whenever he wants.

“According to this,” Stiles continues, reading from his computer while he strokes the tooth, “a genuine shark tooth will heighten primal energy, and aid in communication between the spirit and physical form.”

It sounds like it could help to Derek, but what does he know?

“Maybe…” Stiles thinks, typing something into his browser and rolling his chair to the nearest bookshelf, pulling out a jar of herbs. “Maybe if I bind it with fennel somehow, it will strengthen your control.” Stiles rolls back to his desk to read the article on Fennel Herb Use and chews the cuticle of his thumb.

“Stiles,” Derek calls to him quietly, wanting him to come to bed, and give it a break for a few hours.

“I know, I know. That’s stupid. I’ll figure it out though, I’ve just spent so much time memorizing and identifying these crystals, that I’m not sure what these herbs do. There has to be a better choice in here.” Stiles continues rambling off names of herbs.

Derek rolls out of bed and walks over to Stiles. He bends down and noses behind Stiles’ ear, scenting him, and getting his attention. He coils his arms around Stiles’ shoulders, pressing his chest to Stiles’ back.

Stiles sighs, and his body relaxes. “Derek, I need to figure this out.”

Derek trails his nose along the cord of Stiles’ neck, and sucks it between his teeth.

Stiles’ head tilts to the side, instinctively allowing Derek more skin. “Derek, I need…”

Derek shakes his head and brings his teeth to Stiles jaw, scraping his teeth across the stubble.

“Fuck, Derek. I just need a few-” Stiles argues weakly.

Derek sucks Stiles’ earlobe into his mouth, and latches on, earning a low hiss from Stiles, as he falls further back into Derek.

“Shit, just let me put this-” Stiles stands up to close the herb jar and return it to the shelf.

Derek follows him and as soon as the jar has been put down, he forces Stiles against the wall.

Stiles gasps in surprise, but sticks his ass out only a second later to start grinding against Derek.

Derek continues working at his neck, pinning Stiles to the wall, and fighting the urge to just shove himself deep in Stiles with little prep. But this isn’t just for Derek, this is for Stiles, too-- a momentary break from his work, and a reminder of where he belongs.

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles taunts, his ass dragging slowly along the length of Derek.

Derek plasters himself to Stiles’ back, and reaches his right hand around to shove Stiles’ pants down around his thighs and wrap Stiles in a firm grip.

“Fuck!” Stiles curses, breath coming in faster.

Derek works him for a minute, before letting go and dragging Stiles’ shirt over his head to reveal his pale, spotted skin.

Stiles reaches down to continue stroking himself with harsh breathing, and Derek grabs his wrists and pins them to the wall while he thrusts against Stiles from behind.

“Fuck, Derek. Oh my God,” Stiles moans, needing more, but already on the edge of too much.

“What do you need?” Derek asks into Stiles’ ear with a barely-there whisper.

This seems to shock Stiles silent, apparently not realizing that this was for him too.

“Tell me what you want,” Derek says again just as quietly, a slow thrust working against Stiles.

“You,” Stiles chokes, craning his head back to latch onto Derek. “You, always you.”

While Stiles traces the inside of Derek’s mouth, Derek slips his hand down and starts working Stiles open. Stiles only gets out a short hiss before the fog of lust clears enough for Derek to realize they need lube.

Derek reaches for the end table a few feet to his right, and Stiles remains against the wall, not planning on moving any time soon.

Stiles does however take advantage of the moment to lose his pants altogether.

Derek strips himself and comes up behind Stiles with slick fingers. Derek starts slow, mouth sucking marks into Stiles’ skin, the heat radiating from Stiles’ flush, burning Derek’s lips.

“Yeah, this is going to have to be one of those one minute stretches,” Stiles complains, sticking his ass out further and spreading himself with two broad hands.

“You gonna time me?” Derek smirks, remembering Stiles’ insistence on timing them, and making a game of how fast they could stretch before the main event.

Stiles twists his neck to bite Derek’s lip. “Just hurry the fuck up.”

Derek doesn’t have to be told twice. When he presses himself in finally, Stiles flattens against the wall, but his head remains turned, and Derek can see the high corner of his open mouth. Derek wraps an arm under Stiles’ right arm and across his chest, his hand comes to wrap around the front of Stiles’ throat so he can feel his pulse where it’s most prominent.

Stiles moans loud and proud, his hips starting to demand friction.

Derek uses his leverage across Stiles’ chest and neck, and plants his other hand on a hip to start pistoning inside Stiles until the only thing he can hear is the slap of skin, and Stiles’ shouts of pleasure.

“Fuck, right there! Oh my God!” Stiles cries, sweat beading all over his skin.

Derek licks the beads up with his tongue wherever he can reach, and lifts Stiles’ right leg to press against the wall and open him up further.

“Yeah, shit, don’t stop.” Stiles laughs between moans of pleasure.

Derek hits Stiles’ prostate with every stroke, driving him closer and closer to the edge.

“I wonder-” Stiles starts, unable to speak easily between his gasps of air. “- if there’s something I could use - yea, fuck - to make me last longer -shit - would that be selfish? - oh my God.”

Derek grabs him by his hair to pull his head back against his shoulder. “Stop.”

“What?” Stiles asks, eyes burning with lust.

“You’re mine,” Derek growls, the wolf inside him bristling. “For ten minutes, you’re mine.”

The glaze in Stiles’ eyes clears slightly and he nods vigorously before craning his neck further, Derek still holding his hair, and latches onto Derek’s neck.

Derek throws his head back in a startled moan at the contact he needs so badly.

“Yours,” is all Stiles’ says before making it his personal mission to turn every square inch of Derek’s neck purple.

Derek slows his pace, enjoying the little attention that Stiles is giving him. He clears his mind and pretends that they have a normal life, no supernatural threats, no crazy work hours, just an ordinary life.

Stiles reaches around to hold Derek’s neck and thread his fingers through his hair, blunt nails scraping against his scalp. “Mine,” Stiles growls against Derek’s neck, tugging at Derek’s hair.

This wakes Derek up and he flips Stiles around with a growl, lifting him against the wall before slamming back inside of him.

“Fuck, yes, Derek,” Stiles growls, finally having access to Derek’s skin. He wraps his legs around Derek’s waist, and secures his hold around his shoulders as he latches onto Derek’s mouth and demands entrance.

Derek holds Stiles up with little trouble and allows Stiles to do as he wants, because he is Stiles’ and Stiles is his. His pace begins to slow, lost in the feeling of belonging somewhere.

“Derek,” Stiles says, his voice more sober than it has been since they started.

Derek meets his eyes, and freezes.

“I love you.” Stiles grabs his face and kisses Derek deep, neither of them worried about getting off, just showing their love. “I love you so _fucking_ much.”

Derek can’t summon the words to say it back. He just doesn’t hear this enough anymore, and if he’s being honest, he’s let himself believe that Stiles would grow bored with him, or run out of use for him, and throw him away. But Stiles still _loves him_.

“We’re going to get through this,” Stiles says, running a hand through Derek’s hair. “I promise things will get back to normal.”

Derek drops his head to Stiles’ forehead with a nod.

“Now,” Stiles smiles, “remind me what the privilege of being yours really is, and fuck me like you mean it.”

Derek accepts the challenge, and barely manages to collapse onto their bed after they scream their release.

Stiles doesn’t get up and continue working, instead crashing right there where they fell on the mattress, and Derek doesn’t even bother to rearrange them. He just wraps his arms around Stiles and holds him through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please show [Krist](http://notvirginawoolf.tumblr.com/), [Elise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GrangerPeavon/pseuds/GrangerPeavon), and [Eustilly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eustilly/pseuds/eustilly) some love for beta'ing this monster!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at my [Main Blog](http://tamzstripped.tumblr.com/) or [Sterek Corner!](http://littleredsterek.tumblr.com/)
> 
> See you guys tomorrow!


	3. Where I ought to be.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles takes a day off from magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the third day of Christmas I gave to my boo! Three new elements.
> 
> Technical difficulties are to thank for this chapter updating early. This is technically the chapter for the 16th. I will post chapter 4 on the 17th :)
> 
> This chapter's title comes from [Cross My Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Slo1Ne87zJE) by Marianas Trench.

The Alpha Pack was a force to be reckoned with. Peter had never seen power of this magnitude aside from Talia herself. He needed to figure out a way to join them.

Peter decided that it wasn’t his best option to simply challenge their current recruit, because he didn’t have a pack to slaughter himself and would be unable to prove his loyalty.

After the current recruit had knocked off most of his pack, Peter finally made his presence known. He requested a meeting with Deucalion. With luck, Deucalion remembered the Hale Pack from before he lost his sight when he himself was an ally to the Hale pack. 

Peter played Deucalion like a finely tuned violin. He talked to him like a long lost uncle, reminiscing on the old days, then waxing on how Derek had ran the Hale pack into the ground, and that there wasn’t any pride left to the Hale name. 

When Deucalion offered his condolences, Peter utilized the moment just as he intended. 

He requested that Deucalion assist him in killing his rotten nephew, so he could regain the power that is rightfully his and reinstate the Hale name. 

Deucalion scoffed at the idea, so Peter went on to explain how it could be beneficial to his pack as well.

Peter explained that once he had the power, he would slaughter what was left of the Hale pack, and join the Alpha Pack. Power was all that mattered, and the Hale pack had no chance of returning to its former glory.

It took a few days for Deucalion to decide while they continued to observe their newest recruit destroy his pack, but eventually Deucalion agreed.

* * *

* * *

 

The following week, Stiles makes a point of being at every pack-related get-together; he hadn’t realized that his busy work schedule had left Derek and the pack wanting. He can’t help but scoff at the loose term ‘work’. Being the Emissary isn’t a job, he’s not getting paid, and even if someone were to offer him money for his erratic skills, it wouldn’t make up for the time he has lost with the people who matter most to him. 

When Derek reminded Stiles that he was  _ his _ , Stiles’ heart broke, and he finally understood. While Stiles has been putting all of his energy into his magic, Derek was doing his best to keep things under control in the pack, probably spreading himself a little thin. 

After he and Stiles officially got together, Derek’s interaction with the pack strengthened, and he had finally assumed a role of a leader, like his mother. Stiles did his best to support and share the weight but more recently, he’s left Derek on his own to maintain the wellbeing of their family.

There are three pack meetings a week. Monday is their official pack meeting, Wednesday is training, and Fridays are pack bonding nights, which usually end in a pile of overfed bodies in front of a classic movie, usually Lydia’s choice (no one is brave enough to challenge that). 

It’s Monday and tonight is the pack meeting. No one knows that Stiles is actually going to come out of his room for it, and he doesn’t know how to tell everyone. To be honest he’s afraid to admit to everyone that he's been neglecting them, but they all know.

Stiles just can’t let himself keep doing this to Derek. Derek needs him, and Stiles is going to do everything he can to relieve some of his stress. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t scared, because he’s aware that one of the leading causes of failed marriages is bad work habits. Their relationship has barely lasted a year, and Stiles is already killing it.

Stiles takes a quick shower, and heads out to pick up Erica. He’s taking her to Deaton's for a check-up to make sure everything is well with baby Berica. The pack has dubbed the baby ‘Berica’ because the only person who knows its’ sex is Deaton. Erica doesn’t want to know; she says it gives her something to look forward to.

“Hey, stupid!” Erica smiles, as she climbs into the passenger seat of his jeep. 

“Hey, bubble butt,” Stiles winks, reversing out of the parking spot and getting onto the main road.

She giggles a moment, getting comfortable. “Boyd’s upset he can’t make this check up.”

“He’s been to every one so far, I can understand that,” Stiles reassures her.

“It’s not like we actually see anything. We just go, Deaton rubs his jelly on my tummy, and wow, that sounds gross…” They look at each other awkwardly, before snorting with laughter. “Anyway, he takes a look, and tells me that we’re doing great, and sends me away.”

Stiles makes a turn onto the side road that leads to the clinic. “At least you guys have someone who knows about werebaby fetuses, right?”

“Right,” she laughs.

It takes Erica a minute to climb out of the jeep when they get there, but she says nothing and refuses Stiles’ offered hand. Strong, independent women will be the death of Stiles, he swears to God. He’s gay, he shouldn’t have to deal with them any more, right? Wrong. He’s got three of the strongest women in the entire world coming in and out of his house at all hours of the day. He’s in way too deep, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Erica, you look healthy. Any new developments since last week?” Deaton greets her, opening the gate for them to come behind the counter. 

“Same as always, cranky and hungry about sums up my days,” she groans, obviously tired of Deaton’s pleasantries. 

“That remains a good thing, nothing to worry about.” Deaton motions to the table for her to hop up.

“So,” Stiles starts, “How do you know so much about this?” 

Deaton rolls the sonogram machine over and locates the gel that Erica was talking about. “I was the obstetrician for the Hales, and I’m sure Derek has told you how large his family was.”

Stiles dips his head, “Yeah, I’ve realized that.” He hasn’t told Deaton or anyone in the pack that he and Derek have visited the Hales in the otherworlds. Stiles is still learning names even though he has been there at least a dozen times since the night Derek almost died. 

Erica sniffles which draws their attention. 

“Erica, are you alright?” Deaton asks, reaching to feel her pulse.

She waves them off with a forced laugh. “Yeah, sorry. Ignore me, just all these damn hormones.”

“Aww, mama,” Stiles coos with deep corners to his mouth and wraps her in a hug. “Here, get some Stiles lovin’ - makes everything better, ask Derek.”

“Ew, get off me.” She shoves hard and Stiles nearly hits the floor.

“See?” Stiles smirks. “All better.”

She rolls her eyes, and Deaton takes the moment to ask Erica to lift her shirt.

Stiles raises his hand, “Hold up, should I wait outside? I don’t want to intrude.”

“Shut up,” she rolls her eyes, “You literally run naked with us in the woods every full moon.” 

Thankfully she doesn’t point out that he hasn’t actually run the last few moons. 

“I’m not naked, take that back,” Stiles pokes.

She shakes her head and lifts her shirt for Deaton. 

The sound the jelly makes coming out of the bottle is obscene and it takes everything in Stiles not to cringe and make inappropriate comments. Once Deaton starts moving the sonogram wand around her stomach, Stiles fights his curiosity with a fierceness that would rival the king of the jungle. 

Erica seems to pick up on this, “You can look, Stiles, don’t have an aneurysm.”

“I can’t do that to you and Boyd, it’s a surprise,” Stiles says, crossing his arms tightly, and chewing yet another hole in his bottom lip.

“Stiles, you’re not us, and you’re here. If you can keep the secret, you’re welcome to try to figure out the sex,” she sighs, closing her eyes and relaxing.

Stiles thinks about it, “No, it’s okay.”

“Stiles!” Erica laughs, “You’re probably one of the few things keeping this baby healthy. Just look already, your chemosignals are stressing me out.”

Stiles kisses her cheek before running around the table and scrutinizing the screen he’s only seen in movies. “That…” Stiles snaps his mouth shut. 

“What?” Erica gasps. “Is something wrong?” 

“No!” Stiles barks, “No, I just meant… like… that’s a baby? It’s so weird.”

“I hate you,” Erica sighs, falling back to the table. “You’re totally not going to be a godparent anymore.”

“What?” Stiles is stunned.

“Oh.” Erica’s eyes are comically wide before she smiles brightly. “Yeah. Boyd and I have been waiting for you to be at a pack meeting with Derek so we could tell you both at the same time.”

Just add that to the list of reasons he has to feel guilty for missing pack meetings. Only hours before tonight’s meeting, which Stiles has every intention of attending, he finds out he’s going to be a godparent. Derek should be here. 

Stiles feels like he could cry, “Are you serious? I mean…  _ me?” _

“Yes, Stiles,” she rolls her eyes.

“Can I hug you for real now?” 

“You’re going to get baby jelly all over you,” she taunts.

“That’s not a no…” Stiles inches closer.

“I’m just saying,” she smirks.

Stiles pretends to think it over. “I’ll take my chances.” 

Erica doesn’t fight his hug, and actually hugs him back. After a moment, she sniffs. “Okay, you’re making mama wolf cry.”

“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry,” Stiles chants, backing up and wiping at his own eyes.

* * *

 

Erica groans when they pull into her apartment parking lot, Stiles coming to a rough stop in front of the building. 

“Sorry, God, yeah, my fault,” Stiles rushes to apologize. 

“It’s fine,” she grunts, opening her door to climb out. “Do you want to come in for a bit? Oh, you probably want to get back home to put together more stuff or whatever.” 

“No!” Stiles shouts, jumping out of the jeep, and she startles. “I mean, no, I don’t want to get back. I can stay for a while.”

She smiles, “Alright, yeah.”

Stiles follows her up to the apartment, noting how unstable the stairs seem to be. Erica and Boyd refused to take any aid from Derek when they looked for a place, and Stiles suddenly really wishes they had. 

“Don’t say anything,” she warns in front of him. 

Stiles does as he’s told and stands silently behind her as she unlocks her door. When he gets inside he’s stunned at how nice it looks. “Wow, you guys really… wow!”

She smiles. “Yeah, it only looks this good because of your Christmas gifts. This place would probably still be bare if not for all of those gift cards and certificates.”

“Don’t thank me, it was all Derek, in no universe would I have that kind of money,” Stiles laughs, looking around before sitting down on her suede couch. 

“No, if not for you, Derek wouldn’t have done that.” She sighs, propping herself up with a pillow.

Stiles shakes his head, “Yes he would.”

She looks at him a moment. “You really don’t realize what you have done for our pack, do you?” 

Stiles turns the corners of his mouth down. “Honestly, I feel like I’ve been neglecting you guys.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” she groans.

“What?” Stiles says as dryly back. “You can’t tell me that me keeping myself locked upstairs in my room for the last six months hasn’t bothered you guys. And, I’m not even really getting things done. I’m just screwing around, and haven’t actually figured out any real way to fight Peter. So yeah, I’m not God’s gift to the pack.”

“You’re the dumbest smart person I know.” She sighs, “Look, before the alphas, before you and Derek got together, Derek was closed off and cold. He didn’t really talk to us, pack meetings and training were always really stunted and awful, but since you came around he’s actually…” she pauses looking for a word. “He smiles.”

“That’s not because of me.”

She points at him. “If you’re going to keep arguing with me, you can go ahead and leave. You’re making Berica mad.”

“Don’t use my unborn godchild as a weapon, that’s mean.”

“Well stop being stupid and I’ll stop being mean,” she challenges. 

Stiles crosses his arms. “You’re definitely my least favorite.”

She clicks her tongue, “Don’t even try, everyone knows that Jackson has that spot locked up tight.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a close second right now.” 

They drop the conversation after that and watch some daytime television before Stiles has to head back to the house. He wants to try and catch Derek before he meets his dad at the Sheriff’s station.

To prove his loyalty to the Hale pack, Chris Argent is helping Derek get justice for his family's deaths. He has reopened the case and is doing everything he can to prove Kate’s involvement. 

Derek has spent many days working with Stiles’ dad on this, and it’s opening a lot of wounds for Derek. Stiles didn’t even know this was going on until a few weeks ago, because he’s the worst boyfriend to ever boyfriend. 

Right now, their problem is proving that Kate and Derek were ever together. Unless they can definitively link her to the Hale family, it’s impossible to prove her involvement. 

After kissing Erica and Berica goodbye, Stiles heads home. He finds Derek in the back yard working on Scott’s bike, replacing the muffler. 

“Aww,” Stiles coos, as he approaches, “Getting daddy’s help?”

“Ha ha. So funny,” Scott mocks.

Derek looks up to Stiles. “You’re home. How’d it go?” He asks, twisting a bolt easily. Stiles’ arm would probably fall off if he were to attempt the same movement. 

Stiles licks his lips at the bulge of Derek’s bicep before he recollects himself to respond. “Great! She’s great. Berica’s great. Everyone’s great.”

“Great.” Derek smirks.

“Great.” Stiles blushes, knowing that his arousal wasn’t unnoticed by Derek’s nose. 

“Great!” Scott beams from where he’s standing next to Derek. 

Stiles shakes his head, “So how long until you leave to meet my dad?”

Derek look up at the sun, “About a half hour.”

“Oh.” Stiles frowns, not much time for him to finish up with Scott’s bike, and then slip upstairs for a quickie before he leaves. “Want any company? Can I come with you?” Stiles asks.

Derek blinks and drops the wrench. “I didn’t know you would want to go.”

Stiles tries to keep the shame from his face. A week of pack bonding isn’t going to suddenly make Derek feel better. Stiles has to try harder. “Yeah, well I have some free time, and I miss you.” Stiles adds quietly. 

Derek brushes his hands on the knees of his jeans and stands up to walk around the bike to Stiles. 

Scott remains motionless, watching the both of them. 

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles and kisses him gently, but confidently, before he responds. “I’d love for you to come, but this meeting is supposed to be between just your dad, Chris, and myself.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.” Stiles forces a smile, his disappointment obvious. 

“Next time?” Derek offers.

“Next time,” Stiles nods.

“So are you not working today?” Derek asks, dragging a hand up and down Stiles’ spine, the contact relaxing the both of them. 

“I am trying to take the day off. Focus on the pack, you know.”

Derek slides a hand under the back of his shirt, “That’s great.”

“Yeah, but everyone seems to be doing other things today, so…” Stiles looks over at Scott’s guilty face. Scott blew him off this morning when he called because he was meeting Allison.

“I’m sure-”

“No, it’s okay.” Stiles smiles, straightening Derek’s shirt. “There’s an apothecary that Deaton told me about a few towns over, maybe I’ll go there today.”

“Take someone with you, I don’t want you going alone,” Derek says pulling out his phone.

Stiles starts to argue, but zips his lips because Derek’s just looking out for him and Peter is out there somewhere.

“Isaac,” Derek answers. “Do you have any plans this afternoon?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but does his best not to let Derek see as he’s making arrangements. 

“He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Derek clarifies, kissing Stiles again.

“You sure I can’t go with you?” Stiles asks, it looks like Derek is about to apologize so he flips the direction of the exchange. “Could be fun… slipping off for a quickie in the supply closet? Or maybe a holding cell?” Stiles winks.

Derek growls, and to Stiles’ pleasant surprise, Derek grabs his hand and drags him across the yard and into the house. 

“Aren’t you going to finish putting my muffler on?!” Scott shouts from where they left him. 

Stiles cackles, “You’ll have to figure this one out on your own, Scotty. Stiles is in much need of some alpha lovin.”

“Gross!” Scott calls back with gagging sounds to accompany.

* * *

 

Stiles decides to take the train because he wants to do some research on herbs and other organic items on the way. Isaac argued for a while, saying he could drive, but Stiles refuses to let him drive Roscoe. 

They locate an empty seat and settle in for the half hour ride. 

“So, what are your plans for fall?” Stiles asks, wanting to give Isaac some attention because he’s a puppy and Stiles’ absence has effectively kicked said puppy enough for a lifetime. 

Isaac actually looks surprised to be asked. “Uhh, yeah, um.” Isaac clears his throat before he finds what he’s trying to say. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“If you’re just worried about money, Derek already said he can pay for your tuition. You would just need to pay for supplies and stuff.”

“It’s not that.” Isaac shakes his head, watching the trees fly by. 

Stiles waits patiently for Isaac to figure out what he’s trying to say.

“I’ve really been thinking about enrolling in the police academy.”

“Do it!” Stiles gives him a big thumbs up. “I remember you talking to my dad about that last year. You should do it.”

“You remember that?” Isaac asks in awe.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I just made it up, and hoped you wouldn’t call me on it.”

Isaac dips his head. “Smart ass.”

Stiles blinks and suddenly he’s looking at Talia.

“Stiles! Are you okay?!” she demands, grabbing his shoulder. 

“Talia? Yeah! I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Stiles asks, worried, looking around for a threat.

“Oh good. Good,” she breathes. “We just felt Peter at the house and we were worried that he got you. What was he doing there?” 

“Peter was at the house?” Stiles asks, concerned whether Derek and Scott were still there. He really needs to call them right now.

“Yes, did you not see him? Where are you?” she asks, looking around and noticing that they are kind of in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by black, not in her family territory.

“I’m on a train with Isaac heading out of town.” Stiles redirects her to the more important topic. “How did you see Peter?”

“We aren’t sure. We didn’t really see him, but we sensed him. It took us a minute to realize, but we couldn’t find you or Derek, and then he was gone.”

“Why were you able to find him there, but nowhere else?” Stiles asks, “Did you guys follow him? His feeling or whatever?”

She sighs with irritation. “No, we followed him to the border of the preserve, and then he was just gone. The feeling weakened the closer we got to the edge of the trees.”

Stiles’ heart is pounding because how close did he just come to being home alone when Peter decided to drop by? How close was Derek? Where is Derek, did he make it to the Sheriff’s station?

“We think that the reason we were able to sense him is because he was at the house, where all of your magic is focussed. We can see the house clearly, we can’t see anything else nearly as well.”

“Weird,” is all Stiles says, as the reality sinks in. “This is bullshit. I am so sick of this, I’m going to kill Peter. He’s just going to keep coming for us, and he’s never going to stop.”

“Stiles, think about this. We all agree that this is not ideal, but he is the last of Derek’s living relatives.” Talia offers carefully.

“With all due respect, Talia, I have to say that’s crap. If he wants to be family, he needs to fucking act like it. Derek is a good person; he’s trying to rebuild a family, and he’s finally accepting the fact that he deserves to be loved. I won’t allow Peter to keep ruining that.” Stiles rants. 

“Alright, darling. You’re right, and I’m so pleased that you have chosen to love my son. I trust you to-” 

Stiles finds himself looking at Isaac who keeps flinching between quiet whispers of his name. 

“Stiles, good you’re back- ah - calm down,” Isaac begs, his hands grasping Stiles’.

“What? Why? Isaac, what are you doing?” 

Isaac finally lets go and Stiles sees sparks coming from his fingers. “You closed your eyes and I figured you did that meditating thing that you do, and then a minute later your hands started sparking - I tried to cover them so no one would see, but…” Isaac sighs and falls back against the seat. “Ouch,” is all he says before he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Stiles has learned that when his emotions are out of control, he sparks. That was part of why they had so many fire extinguishers for the house. Stiles is literally a spark; Deaton isn’t wrong about everything apparently. 

Stiles would get frustrated with his lack of talent, spark, and set something on fire. Or he would try to bind a collection of herbs and crystals and the spark would be too strong and set his workstation on fire. 

It was a very trying time. 

Stiles pulls himself back into the present, and tries to tell Isaac what happened, but then stops halfway through his first sentence to call Derek. Derek answers on the second ring. “Derek, where are you?”

“I’m at the station, why? Are you okay? Isaac?” He’s instantly worried, but all Stiles can do is sigh in relief.

“We’re okay. Sorry.” Stiles confirms, before lowering his voice. “You’re mom just reached out to me.”

Isaac’s eyes bulge, having not known that Derek’s mom was even reachable.

“She contacted me because Peter was just at the house.”

“What?” Derek barks. “Is he still there?”

“No, she said they could feel him there and followed him to the border where he disappeared. I’m just glad everyone is okay.” Stiles realizes that Scott might have still been there, especially if Derek never attached his muffler. “Oh my God, Scott! Did he leave when you did?”

“Just before me, he should be okay, but I’ll call him.”

“Okay. Yeah. Do that. I’ll see you when I get home.”

“Be safe,” Derek says.

“We will. Have everyone stay at the house tonight, hopefully my protection wards will hold.”

“I’ll round them up now,” Derek confirms and hangs up.

Isaac looks at Stiles like he has a lot of explaining to do.

“What?”

“Talia?” 

Stiles cringes, “Yeah, about that. I sort of talk to her on a regular basis.”

“You can talk to the dead?” Isaac rushes in an awed whisper.

“Sort of, it’s just supernatural creatures in the otherworlds, and I’ve only really found Derek’s family.” Stiles drags one corner of his mouth up in a silent expression of ‘oops, cats out of the bag!’

Isaac shakes his head, his hands out in front of him. “That’s… wow. And you’ve just been sitting up there in your room acting like you can’t do anything.”

Stiles sighs, packing up his bag. He didn’t actually get to do anything with the contents because of his sudden meeting with Talia. “It’s not like that is going to help us with fighting Peter.”

“It might!” Isaac argues. “Talia just told you where Peter was.”

“Yeah, but that’s the first time Derek’s family have felt him. They have been looking for months.”

“Oh.” Isaac deflates.

“Yeah. Oh.”

* * *

 

The apothecary is exactly what Stiles expected: small, quiet, and with that magical herb smell. He browses the shelves for a while before the shopkeeper comes up beside him. 

“It’s not often I meet someone like me,” she says, looking him up and down.

“Excuse me?” Stiles blanches.

“Emissary blood, I can feel it a mile away. I felt you when you got into town.”

“Um, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles lies, looking for Isaac who’s already got an eye on him, and is approaching the girl from behind.

She waves a hand behind her. “You can call your attack dog off, I mean no harm. I’m a friend.”

Stiles crosses his arms and nods toward Isaac, who stops to pretend to look at a shelf. “What if I’m not?”

“You are. I can feel your energy.”

Stiles’ mind is thinking of all the ways this interaction could go south, but his body is relaxed. More than it has been in a while, so he decides to go with his gut instead of his head. “So you can sense other emissaries?”

“Yes,” she confirms, leading him to one of the couches in the back. “Come sit, I feel there is a lot we can talk about.” 

Stiles decides to follow, and Isaac is careful to keep close in case something goes wrong. 

Once seated, she decides to clarify her earlier statement. “Not all emissaries can sense others, it’s just one of my gifts. I’m a Splash.” 

“A splash?” Stiles asks. 

“Yeah, so you know about the four corners?” She tilts her head to the side. “How do you  _ not  _ know this?”

“Let’s just say, I haven’t had a teacher and this has been a self-guided journey.” Stiles aims for vague, not wanting to show weakness in front of a potential adversary. 

“Oh, you poor thing.” She looks him up and down again. “The parent who passed this to you, they aren’t with us anymore, are they?” 

Stiles shakes his head.

“That makes sense. I’m sorry for your loss.” She swallows and shakes the thought from her head and forces a smile. “Well, all of our magic is based in the four corners of the universe. There are Pulses, Breaths, Sparks, and Splashes. I’m a Splash, as I said a minute ago.” She holds out her hand and small beads of water float above her fingers. 

“Oh wow!” Stiles exclaims, fascinated. 

“Yeah, which one are you?” She asks closing her hand around the beads. 

“Uhh, a Spark. Uh…” He holds his hand out and tries to spark on demand, it takes a second but he gets it, the small white and yellow lights fizzling around his fingers. 

She watches in awe. “I haven’t met a spark, this is incredible, I’ve only heard.” 

Stiles smiles, feeling good about his gift for the first time in a long time. 

“Was your… hmm… the one you lost-”

“My mom.” Stiles clarifies, “And I have no idea. She tried to suppress my magic so I wouldn’t put myself in danger, and I only found out about all of this recently.” Stiles looks down, knowing he shouldn’t share these things with a stranger, but this is the first time he’s met another emissary, so he’s trying to remain optimistic.

“I can’t imagine waking up one day with this, and not having someone to talk to,” she says sadly. 

“I’ve managed,” Stiles responds quietly.

“Well, lucky for you, you walked into my family's shop.” She claps her hands. “Well, let's talk more about the four corners.”

“Yes, please.” Stiles smiles, wanting to learn everything he can.

“We are all based on the four elements. I draw my power from water, you draw yours from fire-”

“And the other two are earth and air?” he asks.

“Yes, we call air magic Breaths, and earth users are Pulses.”

“Pulses?” Stiles asks. 

“Yes, because they are the pulse in the ground, the life that keeps things alive,” she clarifies.

Stiles pinches his brows, “So what do a Pulse’s fingers produce?” Stiles wiggles his fingers to explain what he’s asking about.

“Oh!” She laughs. “Pulses have dust, and with Breaths you can’t really see, but air swirls around their fingers.”

“Oh, what you’re saying is…” Stiles leans forward conspiratorially, “that we got the cool ones.”

She smirks, “Maybe.” 

Stiles looks around at the sudden wealth of knowledge, and this is the best thing that has happened to him in at least a year. He prays to all that is holy she isn’t a threat. “So, is that how the others bond their things?” Stiles’ voice goes up at the end because her face scrunches up in an expression of confusion.

Isaac actually laughs from across the store. 

“Listen here!” Stiles calls to him. “I will make you go outside.”

She laughs and Stiles turns back to her to hear her explain.

“I mean, I’ve found it works as my binding agent, like when I’m making a protective talisman…”

“Oh yeah!” She smiles in understanding. “When I bind my elements, I douse them in water, Pulses sprinkle them in dust, and Breaths use the air to caress them.”

“That’s beautiful,” Stiles breathes, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch. 

She looks him over, “It baffles me that you know so little.”

“Hey!” Stiles exclaims, “I know things!”

“I’m sure,” she smiles, standing up. “Well, if I sit and chat all day my mom will dock my pay, so let me show you around.” 

Still feeling at ease, Stiles follows her, and she shows him all the different herbs, crystals, organic materials and pre-made tinctures that they carry. 

They exchange email addresses before Stiles leaves with a few books, bones and teeth, which might help with Derek’s full shift. Stiles didn’t tell her what he is hoping to do with the ingredients, but when she pointed them out saying they help with primal needs, he had snatched them up. 

On the train home, Isaac eyes him from across the space between their benches. “So that was interesting.”

Stiles grins, “Well, I’d say so.”

“You going to tell Derek about your new girlfriend?” Isaac wiggles a brow.

“Shut up.” Stiles pouts, “But yes, I will tell him all about…” Stiles’ jaw drops. “I never got her name! What the hell is wrong with me?”

“To be fair, she never got yours either.” 

Stiles thinks about this. “Maybe she was respecting my privacy.”

“Maybe.”

Stiles sends an email to her pointing out that they didn’t know names, and decides to give her his. What’s the chance of her discovering his real name anyway?

* * *

 

When he gets home, Isaac helps him get ready for pack night. They make a mountain of sandwiches, mix punches, and prepare some pasta salad. 

Derek arrives with a fleet of cars as he promised to round everyone up. Must have taken a little longer because they had to pack for an overnight stay, and all needed to drive their own vehicles. 

Lydia and Jackson arrive in the Porsche, Erica and Boyd in their small Corolla, Scott on his bike, Allison in her Toyota, and Derek in his Camaro. Stiles had thought Derek sold it when he got his van that could seat more people, but he kept it. Stiles learned later why Derek didn’t and would never sell the Camaro. It was Laura’s. 

Derek follows the pack up the porch steps, scenting the air around him. The look on his face tells Stiles that he can’t smell Peter. That sucks.

They all congregate in the kitchen and eat before the actual meeting commences. Once plates have been halfway cleared, Derek looks over, expecting Stiles to get up and go upstairs since he hasn’t practiced all day. 

Stiles just smiles brightly at him, popping a lazy bite in his mouth. He did tell Derek earlier that he was taking the day off. 

Derek dips his head with a small smile before he lifts it and clasps his hands together over where his elbows rest on the table. “There are a few things we need to get out of the way first, and then we can open the table to any new discussion.”

The others nod, conversation dying around the table as they redirect their attention to their alpha. 

“First. Peter was here today.”

“What?!” Everyone shouts back at him. 

Derek holds up a single finger and explains that his mother contacted Stiles and alerted him, and explained Stiles’ ability to communicate with the otherworld as simply as possible. Guess the cat is out of the bag for everyone. 

It takes a twenty minute conversation for everyone to wrap their heads around that aspect of Stiles’ power. 

“Second,” Derek leads. “We all may need to stay here for a few days, and no one is to travel alone outside of Stiles’ wards.”

For once, even Jackson doesn’t argue.

“And third, Erica and the baby are healthy.” Derek smiles at this and drops his head slightly. Derek has made Erica one of his priorities, because it’s one of the few silver linings they have, and Derek hasn’t really stopped being excited that their family is growing. 

Erica groans with a roll of her eyes. “Yes, still good, grumpy, and hungry.” She punctuates with a large bite of her sandwich. 

Boyd reaches over and wraps his arm around her as the rest of the pack smile at the two of them.

Derek opens the table to further conversation after that. 

There is a roar of chatter, and Stiles can’t focus on anyone in particular. There are more questions about traveling, Peter, and Stiles’ magic in general because he’s been such a recluse. The pack use the opportunity to gather information and updates. 

After all of their questions are answered, Stiles looks over to Lydia who has been quiet most of the meeting and has remained looking out the back window in thought. “Lydia, sweets. What’s got your thoughts?” Stiles asks, drawing everyone's attention. 

Jackson answers with a roll of his eyes. “She wasn’t picked for a summer internship.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about Jackson,” Lydia snaps.

“Lydia, talk to me.” Stiles reaches out and taps her leg. “Do you want to go outside? The porch is protected now.”

She shakes her head. She thinks for a few moments, everyone concerned, before she speaks. “Stanford gave it to a guy who only has half the credentials I do, and a lower GPA and SAT score than me.”

“And that makes sense,  _ how _ ?” Stiles asks dipping his head and squinting. 

“Because he comes from a rich family, and is a white male.”

Boyd leans back. “Ah.” 

“They can’t do that!” Isaac argues, ready to defend Lydia to his dying breath. 

“They can, and they did,” Lydia sighs, looking back out the window.

Derek clears his throat. “Lydia, there’s still that study tour I gave you an invite to. It’s good, I went on it when I was in New York.”

Stiles nods, remembering his Christmas gift. 

“I can’t go to that one.” She shakes her head. 

Derek furrows his brows. “Yes, you can.”

“No.” She looks at him. “It starts next week, and I can’t leave you guys alone to deal with Peter.”

Stiles squeezes her knee. “Lydia, we will be okay. You can’t ignore your future.”

“I’m not, don’t worry about me.” 

Jackson chimes in again with a snarky tone. “She thinks the world is going to end, and it doesn’t matter what she does.”

“Jackson, if you don’t shut your mouth, I will neuter you.” Allison snaps, shoving him out of his chair and sitting down next to her best friend. “Lydia, talk to us, we aren’t going to let this go.”

She sighs, but inevitably concedes. “I was reading about the politicians that are planning to run for office this election and many of them spell hidden horror for a lot of people.”

Stiles cringes, knowing what is most likely to come of this conversation.

“A lot of them don’t support minorities’ rights, and if they get in a position of true power I can only imagine what could happen.” She folds further into herself.

Stiles watches her look at each of them, her expression dimming by the second.

Lydia has always been a forward thinker; it’s one of the reasons they work so well together. They think ahead for potential problems, and between the two of them they are able to come up with alternatives and contingency plans. 

“You’re worried about us,” Stiles deduces. 

She nods solemnly. 

“Why?” Scott looks around for answers he can’t find.

Lydia explains. “You and Boyd will face more discrimination because of your race, and it could get really bad if some of these people are elected.”

Scott looks at Stiles, not understanding. Scott has always been a little shielded. Being the best friend of the Sheriff’s kid comes with at least one benefit. People never really racially abused him because they knew they would face serious consequences, but he’s heard of things his mother faced growing up. Stiles sees the bulb finally click.

She looks between Derek and Stiles. “I know you guys aren’t even thinking about it yet, but one day you might want to get married, and-”

Isaac chimes in, “That shouldn’t be a problem, because it’s legal in California.”

“Yes, but that can always change.”

Stiles avoids looking at Derek because this isn’t something they have even hinted at, and with Stiles’ recent behavior, he doesn’t want to see the doubt that is surely showing on Derek’s face.

“Not to mention if you two ever wanted to adopt.” She drops her head.

Stiles swallows thickly.

“God, Lydia, get a grip.” Jackson goes to walk out of the dining room. 

Derek stands up, muscles tense, but Lydia stands up for herself, and Stiles can’t remember the last time she yelled.

“Jackson, if you continue to talk to me like that I will never speak to you again!”

Jackson freezes, and turns around, face torn between wanting to yell back, and pain at the thought of losing his mate.

“This is a serious matter, and could hurt a lot of the people we love and know. Just because you’ve grown up in your privileged little bubble with your lawyer daddy, doesn’t mean you can shit on everyone else.” 

Everyone freezes and watches Jackson for a reaction.

“You’re overreacting,” Jackson spits, his fists clenched at his side. 

Derek finally speaks. “Jackson, I won’t address how inappropriate your tone toward your mate is, but you will respect everyone in our pack when you are in my house.”

“You’re not my dad, Derek,” Jackson growls.

Derek flashes his eyes at Jackson and he visibly recoils. “But I am your alpha, and you  _ will  _ respect my pack.” He pauses, taking a breath. “If you can’t, then you can leave the pack.”

Jackson throws his hands in the air and stomps up the stairs to his room.

Stiles growls through his teeth, wanting to set a specific fire. To Jackson. To his pants. His crotch to be exact. 

Lydia chokes on a laugh, “What he doesn’t seem to realize is this could potentially hurt him in the future.”

“What do you mean?” Derek asks, turning his body toward Lydia to give her his full attention, and most likely wanting to find a way to ease her worries.

“I mean, eventually, werewolves are going to be discovered. It may not be during our lifetime, but it could be.” She looks at Erica. “When the world finds out about you guys… it’s going to have one of the worst reactions in history. I think it could be worse than the Witch Trials if the current crop of right-wing politicians have everyone whipped up into hysteria over threats to our safety.”

Derek nods. “This is something our kind has always been aware of. That is why we are so secretive. We know how dangerous it could be if the world found out.”

Lydia nods. “I hate to think about what any child being born into that would have to endure. No one should be subject to such hate and hostility.”

Derek gives a solemn nod. “That’s why we do our best to keep our secret.”

Lydia nods, but her mind is still working diligently. “And another thing that pisses me off. This mandated healthcare. You are all required to have health care, but you have no need for it.”

“Why can’t we just play along with it?” Scott asks, not seeing the big deal.

Derek chimes in next. “Because our genetic makeup is different than that of humans, and we can’t let our genetics get logged into any database.”

Scott makes a big ‘oh’ face, but all the lightbulbs brighten quickly. “Wait!” he shouts. “What if that’s why they made it a law! I mean, hunters already know about us, maybe the government does too, and they are hoping someone slips up and then they can out us to the world! What if it’s all a big conspiracy!”

“Alright, Scotty. You’ve been on YouTube again, haven’t you?” Stiles laughs, shoving his shoulder. 

“I’m just saying, it makes sense,” Scott argues. “I mean they might be trying to find other abnormalities, because we aren’t the only supernatural creatures out there, you know?”

Derek nods, “We just have to hope that we all stay safe and secret.”

This doesn’t seem to make anyone feel better, because truth be told, people are dumb.

Derek tries to reassure them. “We have all been around for thousands of years, and no one has been discovered yet. If one day we are, we will handle it, and we will be okay. I promise.” 

The whole pack relaxes at their alpha’s promise, which goes to show how much they have grown in the last year. 

The tension dies down significantly in the next fifteen minutes as everyone clears their plates, and disperses to either lounge in the living room in front of the television, or settle into their rooms. Derek made sure everyone would have their own room when he rebuilt the house, because he wanted them to know they always had a place to come back to. Today, it helps ease the tension between Lydia and Jackson.

Derek cleans the kitchen, probably expecting Stiles to leave and head up to their room after a day without magic practice, but Stiles remains seated and smiles at Derek every time he looks over.

Stiles leans back in his chair, balancing on two legs. “So, what are your plans for tomorrow?”

Derek glances at him quizzically, not used to Stiles asking. “I have a meeting with the bank about the loan I took out to remodel and a meeting with my financial manager to go over different investments.”

“A loan?” Stiles drops his chair, “I thought you were, you know, loaded.” 

Derek huffs through his nose with a smirk. “I’m not  _ loaded, _ but I took out a loan so I could pay it off and improve my credit.”

“Oh yeah?” Stiles smiles, twisting to rest his forearms on the back of the chair. “Tell me more about your credit.”

Derek turns to him with furrowed brows, hands covered in soap suds and scrubbing at a dish. “It’s average? I’ve never really established good credit, because I usually just buy things outright, and don’t make payments. I stupidly just paid off my student loans from New York, and didn’t make payments and let my credit increase. The Camaro was paid off by Laura, and the Toyota was paid in full. Basically, my credit is average.”

Stiles rests his head on his forearms and smiles up at Derek across the room. “So you took out the loan to work on that.”

“Yes.” Derek looks over at him with a raised brow again.

Stiles ignores Derek’s silent question and continues. “And your meeting with your financial manager? Was he the one that suggested you take out a loan?”

Derek nods, “Yes, and so far it was a good suggestion if my credit score has anything to say about it. Tomorrow he wants to talk about a few of my investments in the stock market.” 

Stiles feels his skin warm and hums his pleasure.

Derek looks over at him, his face scrunched as he tried to read the thoughts in Stiles’ head.

“You’re so cute,” Stiles smiles, tilting his head.

“Cute?” Derek asks, draining the sink, and turning to lean against the counter with his arms crossed.

“Yes, cute.” Stiles smiles, standing up to come stand in front of him. “Listening to you talk about credit scores, investments, and loans, while covered in bubbles from the sink? For a moment I forgot all about Peter, werewolves, and magic.” Stiles rests his hands on Derek’s hips, pulling him forward sharply. “We were just two people starting a normal life together.” 

Derek growls low in his chest and wraps his arms around to squeeze Stiles’ ass.

“We will get that for longer than a few minutes one day, I promise,” Stiles states, before leaning in and claiming Derek’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

Their kiss is cut short by a shout from Isaac in the living room. “Ew, gross!” 

They both chuckle quietly before Stiles takes Derek’s hand and leads him up to their room. 

After Stiles closes their door, he continues their conversation from downstairs. “So apart from the bank and financial planner, any other plans?”

Derek pulls off his shirt as he answers. “I have another meeting with your dad, since it was cut short today. If all goes as planned I should be home around four.”

Stiles pulls off his shirt too, and tosses it in the hamper. “Any developments with the case?”

Derek goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth. “Your dad found some security footage.”

Stiles follows him, loading up his own toothbrush and standing next to Derek. “Oh yeah? Finally find proof of your connection to her?”

“Not exactly.”

Stiles furrows his brows, and scrubs at his teeth until Derek elaborates.

“He found some footage of Kate and Peter talking.”

“What?!” Stiles barks, spitting paste everywhere.

“It’s dated before I ever met Kate.”

Stiles spits the rest of the paste out of his mouth. “You’re kidding.” He rinses his mouth and hands the cup to Derek to do the same. “Do you think…”

“I don’t know,” is all Derek says before turning off the faucets and returning to their room and undressing. 

Stiles follows slowly, trying to process what this could mean. Did Peter set Derek up? Did Kate try and get to Peter, and then move on to a more naive target when she failed? But then wouldn’t Peter have realized what Kate was doing with Derek? Both possibilities were equally terrifying, and Stiles can’t imagine where Derek’s head is at right now. All Stiles is sure of, is that this is definitely turning his world upside down.

Stiles climbs into bed after turning off the main light and flips on his bedside lamp.

Derek freezes next to the bed.

“I said I was taking the day off.” Stiles smiles, flipping Derek’s blanket back. “Now come sit, I want to spend time with you.”

Derek dips his head, and Stiles can see the low blush start to rise in his ears, and slips into the bed next to Stiles.

Stiles opens his arms and tugs Derek’s shoulders in his direction. 

Derek takes the hint and shifts so he can lean against Stiles chest, as Stiles leans against the headboard.

Stiles reaches around and finds Derek’s hands to lace their fingers together. They remain quiet for a few minutes, their breathing syncing up, and their fingers lightly stroking each other’s skin. Stiles wishes they could do this more often, but he only has himself to blame.

“I’m worried about them,” Derek finally whispers, his head tilted toward Stiles’ sternum, pillowed in the flesh of his chest.

Stiles buries his nose in Derek’s hair. “Why? What about?”

Derek releases a deep breath. “The government.” He flicks his thumb nail against the tip of Stiles’ fingernail over his stomach. “Growing up, my father always warned us that it could happen, and how important it was for us to remain secret. The idea doesn’t scare me because my dad got me through the initial fear.”

“So now you get them through it,” Stiles says, scraping his nails through the hair on Derek’s chest.

“I don’t know how,” Derek admits.

Stiles lets out a breath through his nose; he wishes he could help. “We’ll figure it out,” Stiles promises, making sure Derek knows he’s not alone.

Derek nods then changes the subject with a deep breath. “So how was your day? Find anything at the Apothecary?”

“Actually,” Stiles smiles. “I met someone.”

Derek turns abruptly to look at him.

“Relax.” Stiles laughs. “No competition.”

Derek relaxes and drapes his arm over Stiles’ stomach from his new angle, head still resting against Stiles’ chest.

“She knew I was an emissary, said she could sense me from a mile away.”

Derek visibly tenses, but Stiles doesn’t comment, because he had the same reaction.

“It scared me, but Isaac was right there, and even though my brain was going to all the worst case scenarios, my gut was relaxed. It was like her presence was comforting in its own way.”

Derek’s fingers have found his treasure trail and are playing with the dusting of hair as Stiles continues talking.

“Apparently, there are four types of emissaries, and they make up the four corners of magic. Kind of like the elements, earth, air, fire, water. I’m a Spark - fire, and she was a Splash - water.” Stiles lifts a hand in front of Derek to spark his fingers. 

Derek doesn’t react because he’s seen it happen many times, but still watches in fascination. 

“This is what a spark’s magic looks like. Hers were small water bubbles collecting above her palms and around her fingers. She said earth-based emissaries are called Pulses for the life of the vegetation around us, and their magic manifests as dirt and dust. Air emissaries are called Breaths and you can't see theirs, but a wind swirls around their fingers.”

Derek hums and reaches out toward Stiles’ fingers that are still dancing with lightning.

“No!” Stiles shouts clenching his fist and putting out his spark. 

Derek flinches.

“Sorry, no, I mean, today on the train when Talia contacted me I came back to Isaac holding my hands. Apparently, because of my fear and anger, I started sparking and Isaac tried to cover it up. But he was stunned; it’s not so much fire as it is electricity. It will hurt you.”

Derek nods. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay.” Stiles huffs through his nose. “I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

“So what was her name?” Derek asks.

“Can you believe I spent two hours with her, and never asked?” Stiles laughs.

“Actually I can,” Derek chuckles.

“We did exchange emails though, because she’s the first person I’ve met who might be able to help me figure all of this out.”

Derek looks up at Stiles. “Just be careful.”

Stiles kisses his forehead. “Of course, I’m not going to tell her about the pack, or where we are. We are just going to exchange basic information. That’s all.”

Derek accepts this answer. “Did you buy anything? Did they have any helpful journals or books?”

“Yeah, I got a few items, like teeth to help with your shift, a couple crystals, and herb guides.” Stiles slides down a little taking Derek with him so they can get more comfortable. “Unfortunately, there aren’t spell books for the same reason Deaton and my mom didn’t have any, but I think I will get this figured out soon.”

“Anything that can help with Peter?” Derek asks, repositioning his head on Stiles’ chest so he can watch his face.

Stiles bites his lip, “I’m not sure yet… The problem is that emissaries aren’t able to do any magic that could be considered harmful, you remember that book we read last year? I’m a healer, a helper, but an emissary is never classified as a fighter. Which sucks, because I would love to kick some Peter ass.” Stiles forces a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“But what if you’re protecting people, by fighting?” Derek asks.

Stiles strokes Derek’s spine. “It’s not that simple, apparently. If I do something harmful, that isn’t approved by the otherworlds, then I risk losing my power.”

“Oh,” Derek mutters.

“Yeah, oh,” Stiles agrees.

Derek drops the topic after that, finally understanding the line Stiles has been struggling not to cross in preparation for the blood moon. 

Stiles reaches over and turns off his lamp, and settles all the way down with Derek’s torso blanketing his chest. Stiles continues to pet Derek, threading his fingers through his hair until Derek falls asleep and small, moist puffs of air make a pattern on Stiles’ chest. 

Stiles wishes he could spend more time with Derek, wishes that he was able to go with Derek tomorrow to his meetings. That Derek could go with him when he does things. That they could just spend more time together. 

Tonight was much needed for both of them. Stiles closes his eyes, remembering the precious domestic moments, and smiles. 

One day, there won’t be anyone stupid enough to try to take on the Hale pack, and they will all live happily ever after. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anouther thank you to my amazing Beta's!  
> [Krist](http://notvirginawoolf.tumblr.com/)  
> [Elise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GrangerPeavon/pseuds/GrangerPeavon)  
> [Eustilly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eustilly/pseuds/eustilly)
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at my [Main Blog](http://tamzstripped.tumblr.com/) or [Sterek Corner!](http://littleredsterek.tumblr.com/)
> 
> See you guys tomorrow!


	4. I'll be right beside you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's going to take more than a Monday Pack meeting for Stiles to prove he's going to be around more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the fourth day of Christmas I gave to my boo! Four minutes in the preserve.
> 
> This chapter's title comes from [Beside You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=inIOgRBBTBE) by Marianas Trench.

Soon after Peter returned to Beacon Hills with Deucalion’s pack in tow, Deucalion began asking questions.

All of his questions came down to if Derek was as powerful as his mother, and if he could achieve the full shift as well. 

Peter could tell by the way Deucalion worded his inquiries, that he was worried Derek could take on his pack. Talia was rather powerful, and could have easily taken out the entire alpha pack in one night, the same didn’t go for Derek.

Peter clarified that Derek would never be half as powerful because he’ll never forgive himself for the role he played with the Hale fire. Which is why he would never understand what it meant to be an alpha, and would only continue to run the Hale name into the ground.

When Deucalion announced that he wanted to pursue Derek as well, he told Peter is was only to distract the pack. It would allow Peter an opening to get close and finish the job. However, Peter worried that if they somehow convinced Derek to kill his pack, then they would eliminate him instead in favor of keeping the more trustworthy Hale.

Peter stalled until he could come up with another contingency plan.

* * *

* * *

 

**To:** [](mailto:stilinski24@gmail.com) **stilinski24@gmail.com** **  
** **From:** [](mailto:wikiwho@gmail.com) **wikiwho@gmail.com** ****  
**Date: June 14, 2016** **  
** **Subject: RE: My name is Stiles…**

_ Nice to officially meet you, Stiles. Don’t feel bad, I didn’t ask you either, so we both failed at common manners. :) My name is Wiktoria, pronounced Victoria, but you can call me Wiki for short. I adopted the nickname a long time ago after everyone at school kept butchering my name, which WTH, it’s not that freaking hard, but whatever. _

_ I check my email regularly for school, so feel free to ask me anything and I should get back to you fairly quickly. If you ever decide to drop by the shop again, let me know so I can make sure I’m working that day, or can at least come in and annoy my brother while he works. _

_Your new ally,_ _  
__Wiki._

Stiles reads the email a few times, laughing to himself. It’s always weird talking to new people, and trying to figure out their sense of humor, and not wanting to look like an idiot. Stiles is familiar with this feeling. Luckily, from the looks of it, she is a lot like himself, so this shouldn’t be hard.

Stiles is relieved to see that she hasn’t asked any further questions about him, and is simply offering her help. 

Stiles smells fresh coffee drift up the stairs and finds some loose clothes before he heads downstairs to join the pack. 

Derek is already dressed, and grabbing his jacket to leave when he sees Stiles. He finishes shrugging on his jacket, pockets his keys and wallet, then makes his way over. 

“Good morning.” Stiles smiles, his nose in the air and searching for coffee. 

Derek picks up a mug from the counter and hands it to him, before kissing him on the cheek. 

“You’re too good to me,” Stiles moans as he inhales at his cup. The porcelain is warm to the touch, Derek probably poured it when he heard him getting dressed so it would cool enough to drink. Stiles takes a sip. “Yep. Way too good to me.”

Derek smiles, and stands a little straighter. “I’m heading to the bank. If I finish soon enough, maybe I can pick up Marty’s-”

Stiles gasps, “Extra curly fries?”

Derek huffs a laugh. “Sure. No promises though.”

Stiles waggles a finger. “If you get Marty’s, you get extra curly fries. It’s basically a law.”

“I meant if I’m able to make it back for lunch,” Derek clarifies, before his mouth forms a hard line at Stiles smiling over his mug. “But you already knew what I meant.”

Stiles winks, fighting a strong giggle.

“Goodbye, Stiles.” Derek rolls his eyes, and walks backwards to leave so Stiles is in his line of sight until the last possible moment.

Erica makes a gagging sound from the table. “You two make me sick.” 

“Don’t be jealous, green’s not a good color on you.” Stiles teases, finally making a plate of food from the eggs, bacon and toast laid out on the counter. “Who cooked?” 

Isaac looks around the table, then back at Stiles. “Derek…”

Stiles squints at Isaac, trying to figure out why he said it that way.

Isaac continues. “He makes breakfast every morning.”

Foot, meet mouth. Stiles looks back at the food. “Oh.” He really has to be there for his pack more. 

While Stiles eats, the rest of the pack pair up for their errands and activities for the day. Once everyone else has left Stiles and Lydia head up to his room.

Lydia looks through his collection of odds and ends while Stiles emails Wiktoria.

**To:** [](mailto:wikiwho@gmail.com) **wikiwho@gmail.com** **  
** **From:** [](mailto:stilinski24@gmail.com) **stilinski24@gmail.com** ****  
**Date: June 14, 2016** **  
** **Subject: RE: My name is Stiles…**

_ I totally understand the nickname thing. Stiles is mine, my real name is a nightmare, but Polish too - is that a thing? Forgive my ignorance, as I told you in the shop yesterday, I’ve been on my own with this. Are all emissaries of Polish descent? _

_ I keep thinking about the elements and how all emissaries are based in one element. I feel like this is one of the fundamentals I have been lacking; are there any articles you can link me to so I can learn more? Or is this one of those secret things? You know how the internet can be; you never know what is real. _

_ Also, are you sure it’s okay for you to be answering all of these questions for me? I would hate to get you in trouble. _

_ I could literally ask you at least fifty questions right now, but I don’t want to push my luck. _

_Your first Spark ally,_ _  
__Stiles._

Stiles re-reads his email a few times and finally hits send, deeming his message vague and innocent enough for this early in their friendship. He turns to find Lydia still browsing his shelves. “Weird stuff, right?”

She pulls a red crystal from the shelf and runs her thumb along the smooth edge. “I just can’t get over all the different things out there, that we grew up knowing nothing about. I feel like every day I learn something new.”

“You and me both,” Stiles agrees, before getting an idea. “Want to see something cool?”

She turns, crossing her arms, challenging him to impress her. 

Stiles picks up a candle from his desk and caresses the wick with his thumb and index finger, igniting it instantly with the small spark from his finger tip.

“Shut up!” She drops her jaw. “You can control it now?” 

Stiles preens, but cringes soon after. “I don’t know if I can control it all the time, but I’m learning.”

She nods, accepting this answer.

“I also learned that all emissaries are based on the four elements: earth, air, fire, water. I’m fire, or as Deaton has always referred to it, a Spark.”

This grabs Lydia’s attention and Stiles tells her all about his meeting with Wiki, and how he finally doesn’t feel so hopeless anymore. The conversation grows quiet, and Stiles finally asks Lydia for her opinion on something that has been weighing on him since the first time he set his desk on fire.

Stiles looks down at his fingers, faint lightning bolts pulsing with his worry. “Do you think it bothers Derek that I’m a Spark, and can  _ literally  _ set everything on fire?” 

Lydia doesn’t answer immediately, taking time to pick the right words. “It probably startled him at first, and might have made him nervous for a while. But I don’t think it bothers him anymore. He trusts you, he knows you wouldn’t hurt him.”

Stiles nods and the lightning fades from his knuckles.

Lydia spends the rest of the day helping him identify his materials, and brainstorm different protection spells.

Derek makes it home for lunch and after Stiles eats his weight in fries, he drags Derek upstairs for a quickie before letting him leave to meet the Sheriff.

After Derek leaves, Stiles gets a response from Wiki.

**To:** [](mailto:stilinski24@gmail.com) **stilinski24@gmail.com** **  
** **From:** [](mailto:wikiwho@gmail.com) **wikiwho@gmail.com** ****  
**Date: June 14, 2016** **  
** **Subject: RE: My name is Stiles…**

_ You’re not going to get me in trouble, I’m happy to help. :) _

_ I’ll forward over some mostly accurate articles after this to help you. However, I am going to attempt to explain it as simply as I can. All magic is based on the four elements. You cannot perform anything without all four elements. Our core magic is just our strongest element, so that part comes easier to us.  _

_ Like you can produce fire with just a thought, I can produce water, etc. In order for us to perform actual spells we rely on other things to provide our other elements. We use crystals and herbs to substitute Earth, we rely on the time of day and weather in substitute of air. I have to use candles for fire, and you have to use water for yours.  _

_ Therefore, when performing an elaborate or dangerous spell, it is good to have all four corners participating, because then you leave little to chance, and you have control over the fundamental elements. _

_ All of the elements stand for a different state of magic. Here is something my family uses to easily understand the differences. * _ " _ Emissaries perform rituals and meditations (Earth) using the symbol systems they have learned (Air) to stimulate & transform the imagination into a faculty of perception (Water) in which the Higher Powers will appear and communicate (Fire.) _ " 

_ Wow, I had no idea this would be so hard to explain. I grew up around magic, so I learned slowly, I can’t even imagine how hard it is to absorb all at once. _

_ To your other question, yes. All emissaries are of Polish descent.  _

_ Wiki. _

Stiles lets Lydia read this email, which spurs a whole new conversation of possibilities, and Stiles composes another email asking their new questions. Wiki remains eager to help, and doesn’t seem to withhold any information. When everyone has congregated in the living room for a movie that night, Stiles joins in, finally feeling like he doesn’t have to practice every second of every day.

* * *

 

The next gathering is training night, which means half of the pack is moping around, not looking forward to getting their asses kicked, or in a  _ particularly  _ good mood because they get to do the kicking.

Stiles goes outside and places his new protection talismans around the yard. After learning more about the four elements, he’s decided to try a new technique. He’s designed each talisman, or corner, as one of the elements, and placed them around the yard. He hopes this will make his ward stronger, and that the pack will be safe training in the back yard with Peter lurking around Beacon Hills. 

Derek prefers to train in the basement, but Stiles thinks it’s better to be outside because there’s more room, and it isn’t as depressing. Derek pointed out it wasn’t as safe, so Stiles agreed that if he couldn’t set up reliable wards, then they would train inside.

To test his new wards, Stiles has Jackson leave the boundary, and then try to push him over hard enough to knock the air out of him. Jackson jumps at the opportunity.

Stiles braces himself as Jackson barrels toward him, but just as Jackson meets the edge of the barrier, he slams into something hard, and bounces off. 

Flinching, Stiles realizes it worked and throws two fists in the air. “Yes! Success! I did something!” Maybe this is what he’s been missing this whole time; he didn’t know the fundamentals. 

Jackson growls, standing up and making his way back toward Stiles, but bumps into the barrier again. 

“You’re still thinking about hurting me, aren’t you?” Stiles taunts, shoving his hair out of his face.

“I hate you,” Jackson growls, crossing his arms. 

A few minutes pass before Jackson can calm down and cross the barrier safely.

* * *

 

Derek watches Stiles throw his fists in the air at his accomplishment, and can only smile. Stiles needed this, something to prove that he was on the right track and learning. 

Derek hauls the mats over to where Stiles is standing in the middle of the clearing to lay them down for sparring.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asks looking between Derek and the mats. “There is literally grass everywhere, we don’t need mats. Take those back to the basement.”

Derek rolls his eyes, and continues to lay the mats out. “We’re going to wear a dead patch into the lawn if we train out here every week.”

Stiles squints at him, then throws his hands up in surrender. “Fine. But I’m not helping you carry those bastards back and forth.”

Derek shakes his head, and gets down on his knees to adjust the mats and stab pikes in the corners to keep them from sliding once they start training. 

“Damn.” Stiles breathes from behind him, and Derek cranes his head over his shoulders from where he rests on all fours. Stiles is standing about ten feet away with his thumbs and index fingers forming a rectangle, his left eye closed. “Where’s a camera when you need one?”

“Stiles,” Derek warns, turning back to his task at hand, and if he sticks his ass out a fraction, or bulges his biceps more than necessary, no one has to know.

“Mmm,” Stiles hums, dropping down onto Derek’s back, straddling him. “Let’s play horsey.” Stiles giggles.

“You’re so weird,” Derek mumbles, still trying to finish securing the mats with the added weight on his back. He crawls across the mats to secure each corner, Stiles trying to keep his balance and giggling like a maniac. Derek might buck unnecessarily for Stiles’ enjoyment, but that’s between them. 

“You love me,” Stiles whispers, bending down to breathe over his ear once they slow down their game.

A satisfied growl rumbles deep in his chest at the feeling of Stiles draped across his body, dominating him. There’s a searing line of heat along the base of his spine ending at the crease of his ass. 

“You like it when I ride you, don’t you?” Stiles rasps into his ear, only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

Derek nods, suddenly wanting to forgo pack training to haul Stiles up to their room and shut the door. “They are going to come out here any second,” Derek reminds him, his control already slipping.

“So?” Stiles dares. “Let’s give them a show.”

Derek groans, as Stiles shifts his hips further down, teasing across the crease of his ass.

“Would you like that? Letting them see how well I take care of you? How I know how to give you what you need?” Stiles licks his earlobe and sucks it into his mouth.

Derek is torn between letting Stiles do just _that_ , because no one can or _ever_ _will_ take care of him the way Stiles does, and making Stiles stop because he is the alpha and he’s supposed to show control. 

Stiles drags his hands up Derek’s flanks, over his shoulders, and down his biceps, squeezing just enough to release tension everywhere. 

Derek’s wolf gives in, wanting to roll over and show its belly. Derek is at Stiles’ mercy.

Stiles continues his work, humming nonsense into his ear about how much he loves him, how well Derek takes care of him too, and how he wants to take him right here on the mat.

Just as Derek is about to beg for it, he hears his betas making their way to the back porch, and Derek jumps up with Stiles still on his back and runs into the woods. 

Stiles shouts with the abrupt change in his gravity, but clings to Derek’s shoulders and hooks his knees over Derek’s hips as he runs into the trees. While Derek runs just far enough away to cover the sounds of what he plans to do, Stiles gets a head start working deep bruises into Derek’s neck,  and biting with the occasional jumps Derek has to make to avoid fallen trees.

Derek halts and drops Stiles, who slides around him and pulls him by the straps of his black tank top, until he bumps into a tree. Derek braces Stiles in against the tree, and latches onto his lips.

Stiles reaches into Derek’s gym shorts and grabs him in one swift motion.

“Fuck,” Derek chokes, biting Stiles’ lower lip.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Stiles smirks, lifting his chin and allowing Derek access to his neck as he works Derek into a frenzy.

All Derek can do to answer is nod vigorously, and thrust into Stiles’ fist.

Stiles continues to whisper dirty nothings to him, getting him off as much with his voice as with his hand. 

Derek drops his head to rest against Stiles’ shoulder, and drags his hand down his flank to slide into Stiles’ grey sweats. Derek pushes the fabric out of the way and frees Stiles from his underwear. 

“Yeah, fuck,” Stiles moans, as Derek returns a grip of his own.

Derek tries to make quick work of their release after realizing his reckless behavior has landed them outside Stiles protective barrier. 

They both pant into each other’s shoulders for a few minutes, fucking each other's fists, and covering each other in sloppy kisses. Derek surges forward and plasters himself to Stiles’ front, and takes himself in his fist as well, and jerks them both into oblivion. 

Stiles cries out at the feeling of Derek’s cock against his, and clings to Derek, dragging nails across his back. 

Derek lifts Stiles’ green shirt and they both shoot all over Stiles' stomach.

“Gross,” Stiles laughs, as he tries to breathe again after his release.

Derek smiles, pecking gentle kisses down Stiles’ neck until he falls to his knees to clean Stiles up with his tongue after rubbing it into Stiles’ skin. As stilted as the last few months have been, Derek’s need to mark is strong.

After a few more minutes of enjoying their time alone, they head back to the house and are met with six unamused faces.

* * *

 

They begin their training as they do every week, with laps and basic warm up exercises, mostly for the humans’ benefit. Derek knows his wolves don’t really need to warm up, but since Erica and Stiles refuse to sit out for training, Derek makes sure they are ready to spar.

Stiles finishes his last set of burpees, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin, and making his clothes cling. 

When it comes time to spar, Derek pairs them up. He puts Erica with Boyd because Boyd can’t stand by and watch the mother of his child get hurt, and Jackson doesn’t hold back, even for pregnant pack mates. Erica doesn’t want to be treated as if she is fragile, but Derek can’t risk her getting hurt, so they work on their agility and dodging strikes.

Lydia pairs with Allison to work on target practice, before Allison switches to fight Scott, leaving Lydia to work with the targets on her own. 

Isaac and Stiles jab punches at each other; Stiles holds his own until Isaac finds his opening and strikes, pinning Stiles to the ground. 

Derek pairs himself with both Jackson and Scott, letting them work together at taking him down since he’s an alpha. Derek doesn’t hold back when training with his betas, because no one else will. He uses the method of taking on more than one adversary because he needs the practice, too. He has to stay aware of his surroundings and be able to deflect an attack from any angle. 

Sometimes, the others will join in on the match to keep Derek on his toes. 

Another reason Derek prefers this method is that it helps his betas learn to work together and silently communicate in combat situations. It took months for them to be able to fight without a single word spoken, and in the last six months the fights have been pretty even. 

They all take a break to rehydrate and switch partners.

Erica complains that she needs an actual partner who won’t  _ let  _ her win, and Stiles volunteers, chest still heaving from his tough round with Scott, who focused more on hand to hand combat, allowing Stiles to concentrate on freeing himself from a stronghold. Erica nods her acceptance, knowing that Stiles understands how badly she needs a real fight, because he feels the same way. 

Derek stands back while Isaac, Jackson, Scott, and Boyd all spar. Derek goes over to Allison and Lydia and lets them take shots at him to work on moving targets, and he’s only grazed a few times by an arrow. 

Stiles hates when Derek does this, but he’d rather let himself be hit by an arrow than one of his betas. When he wants his betas to practice avoiding projectiles, he pulls out paint ball guns so there aren’t any wounds. He won’t let them practice with more deadly weapons until they can complete a round against the paintball guns without getting hit.

Their paintball matches never really feel like training. The atmosphere when they play is one of Derek’s favorite things to be a part of. He plans to one day build an arena in the trees behind his house decked out with all the works.

“That’s it,” Stiles barks, shoving himself up from the mat. “Derek, get your ass over here, and fight me.”

Derek looks over to see Stiles shooting daggers at everyone around him. Apparently they aren’t trying hard enough with him. “Stiles, you don’t need to get knocked out to train.”

“You think I can’t beat you?” Stiles challenges with pink cheeks from his attempts thus far.

Derek smiles, walking toward him. “You think you can?”

Stiles juts his chin out and looks him up and down. “I know your weaknesses.” Stiles winks, before spreading his feet and settling into a fighting stance. He curls a finger at Derek. “Come at me.”

Derek does as he’s asked, and fakes a high, only to dive with the intent of taking out Stiles’ legs.

Stiles runs at Derek, and just as Derek dives, Stiles jumps clean over him.

Stunned when he doesn’t meet Stiles’ legs, Derek stands up blinking.

Stiles gets back into a stance and beckons, daring Derek to try again. 

Derek does and goes high this time, and Stiles falls into a slide and goes right under him.

“You’re not even trying,” Stiles complains.

They do this over and over, Derek attempting different things to throw Stiles off, but Stiles knows his tells too well.

Derek looks around and notices that the others have stopped to circle Derek and Stiles. Derek keeps his eyes on them in case they decide to join in to help Stiles take him down.

Stiles takes his momentary distraction to drop and swing his leg out, and knock Derek’s from underneath him.

A few people laugh at the shock on Derek’s face. 

Stiles circles him, stretching his limbs. “You going to finally take this seriously?”

Derek growls low, with a smile, and finds his footing. “If you insist.”

A little while later Stiles attempts to tackle Derek by launching himself onto his back and knocking him down. But Derek grabs his arms and flings him over his head to slam into the mat. 

Stiles blinks at the force of the air escaping his lungs, but this only encourages him to try harder. Stiles tries the same move later, and wraps his legs around him again to keep himself from being flung off. This time Derek drops back, slamming his body against Stiles. 

“Fuck,” Stiles curses with a harsh breath. “Okay, maybe take it easy on me. I’m probably covered in bruises now.” He hisses through his teeth as he tries to get up again.

“Giving up already?” Derek taunts, circling Stiles with a smirk. He scents Stiles for genuine pain, but the pain is laced with pleasure. It took Derek some time to accept Stiles’ appreciation of pain. Derek had noticed it in bed with how Stiles particularly enjoys being roughed up, but when it came to training it was harder to wrap his mind around. 

Derek has come to understand that when Stiles feels pain while training it reassures him that his pack not only are taking him seriously, but it proves to him he can take it if he needed to.

Stiles squints his eyes, refusing to admit defeat, and circles the mat opposite Derek. “No, I just figured you might be tired of  _ holding back _ .”

“You think I’m holding back?” Derek asks with a raised brow, enjoying the banter.

Stiles rolls his eyes and shoulders. “I  _ know  _ you are.”

Derek pops his claws at his sides.

“Oh yeah, come to daddy,” Stiles smirks, bending his knees and curling the tips of both hands, watching for Derek to make his advance.

Derek rushes him, but when he realizes that Stiles isn’t preparing for a counter attack, freezes a foot away.

“See?” Stiles says. “You’re holding back.”

Derek huffs, letting his claws slip back in. “It’s like you  _ want  _ me to hurt you.” 

“If you don’t, Peter  _ will _ .” Stiles challenges crossing his arms.

“Stiles,” Derek groans, pinching his nose. He doesn’t know how to push Stiles any further without causing real harm, it’s already hard enough as it is.

“Derek.”

The pack remains silent during the stare down between their leaders.

Derek steps closer. “I can’t let myself hurt you, it’s hard enough to allow myself to bruise you, but using my claws? Hitting you? I can’t do that; you can’t heal like we can.”

“Maybe I can,” Stiles challenges. “You left me after the ritual, but I healed.”

Derek drops his head, he’s still not forgiven himself for leaving Stiles that night, even though everything was okay. “I’ve seen you hurt yourself since, and you don’t seem to heal.”

“Those were all self-inflicted, maybe it has to be an injury from something else.” 

Derek groans, “But you don’t  _ know  _ that.”

“ _ Fight. Me. Derek _ .” Stiles bites.

Derek hates this. He looks around and catches sight Allison’s bag, when an idea hits him. “Fine.”

“Really?” Stiles blinks standing straighter.

Derek nods, “Sure, but you have to use Allison’s daggers. If I’m going to use my claws, you need to be able to defend yourself.”

“But I-” Stiles starts before biting his tongue.

“Don’t want to hurt me?” Derek raises a brow. “Knowing I can  _ actually  _ heal?”

“Okay. Fine.” Stiles crosses his arms tighter, avoiding Derek’s eyes. “You made your point.”

Derek stands straighter, and pairs everyone up and gives them challenges. 

Stiles sits on the porch, and pointedly doesn’t look at Derek.

* * *

 

Eventually, Stiles can’t sit by any longer and joins a match between Isaac and Allison. He and Allison kick Isaac’s ass.

Stiles is on top of Isaac holding him down, after somehow connecting with him, when he hears a car door. Stiles looks up to find everyone looking at each other with wide eyes. 

Stiles is just about to ask Derek who it is, when he hears his name. 

“Stiles! Get off that boy!” 

Stiles turns to see his dad entering the backyard. To his father, it probably looks like a scene out of a gangbanger film. Stiles jumps off as quickly as he can, and looks around to see if any of his friends have dry blood on their clothes. Luckily, he doesn’t spot any, but he sees a lot more sweatshirts than he did a moment ago.

“Dad! Hey!” Stiles places his hands on his hips, forcing a smile. “What are you doing here?”

His dad looks at the group of them, sweaty, and awkward. “Are you part of some kind of Fight Club? What is this?”

Stiles scoffs, “Dad, come on, no.”

“Then what is this, and why were you all standing around while my son beat Isaac?”

Derek spoke, “No sir, he wasn’t beating Isaac. We are just training.”

Stiles runs over to his dad, “Yeah, training. You know with all of the stuff that happens in Beacon Hills we decided to learn how to fight.” Stiles holds up two fists, bumping them together, in what he hopes is an innocent-looking gesture. “We aren’t beating each other up, just learning self-defense.”

“It looked a lot like Isaac had been jumped to me,” the Sheriff sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Stiles looked around with a shrug. “He and I were sparring, and you distracted him, and I kind of just fell on top of him?” Stiles tries.

His dad shakes his head. 

“Yeah, so… what are you doing here?” Stiles segues.

His dad blinks, then with a sigh turns back to his son. “The bank called and notified me of some unusual activity on your account. I came to see what you’ve been spending your savings on.”

“Oh!” Stiles blinks. “Yeah, about that.” Stiles scratches his head, trying to figure out how to explain to his father that he’s been dropping hundreds of dollars on herbs and crystals. “Are you thirsty? I’m thirsty. Let’s go inside.” Stiles smiles grimly and makes his way up the back porch stair to allow his friends to wrap up training, while Stiles tries to get his dad off the scent. Stiles  _ really  _ needs to tell his dad about werewolves, emissaries, and other things that go bump in the night.

* * *

 

**To:** [](mailto:stilinski24@gmail.com) **stilinski24@gmail.com** **  
** **From:** [](mailto:wikiwho@gmail.com) **wikiwho@gmail.com** ****  
**Date: June 17, 2016** **  
** **Subject: RE: Traveling?**

_ This is something I will have trouble helping you with, so sorry in advance, but I will do my best to find the answers for you. _

_ Traveling is harder for Water and Earth emissaries because we are too grounded. We are better with physical magic, while Fire and Air are able to interact with the otherworlds easier.  _

_ My mother visits the otherworlds regularly because she’s our Breath (Air). I still can’t believe you’ve gone your whole life not knowing what you are, and I wish there was a way I could snap my fingers and give you all the knowledge you are missing. I would love to have you over to meet my family, they could help you a lot more than I can, but I understand your need for anonymity. _

_ I will ask my mom more about traveling and see if she has any new information that can help you. My knowledge is about the same as yours. Are you looking for something in particular, or just want to know if there’s something you don’t know about? _

_Your secret agent,_ _  
__Wiki._

Stiles laughs at her signature, which is always different. He knows nothing about her personally, but he feels that over time they could be really good friends. He already wants to divulge specifics and allow her to get to know him better too, but he has enough problems. The last thing he needs is another threat.

With Derek still sleeping beside him, and the sun barely rising over the trees outside his window, Stiles responds from his phone.

**To:** [](mailto:wikiwho@gmail.com) **wikiwho@gmail.com** **  
** **From:** [](mailto:stilinski24@gmail.com) **stilinski24@gmail.com** ****  
**Date: June 17, 2016** **  
** **Subject: RE: Traveling?**

_ Don’t worry about not being able to answer my questions, you’ve already been a massive help, and I have no idea how I will ever thank you. I’ve honestly been so lost for the last year, the little bits you’ve already shared have changed my world. So thank you. _

_ I live in a town which constantly has supernatural creatures visiting, and I guess my mother tried to protect me from getting involved. After she passed she couldn’t suppress my magic anymore, and it finally matured last year. Before you apologize or worry that you’ve opened a wound, or are poking a bruise, please don’t. I’m okay. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. :) _

_ Thank you for understanding. I’ve just got a lot to worry about already, and I can’t afford to blindly trust someone just because they know what I am. I’ve seen plenty of movies where someone believes a bad guy because of something they share, and then the bad guy doing something evil for their own gain. Not that I’m saying you’re a Bad Guy… Wow. Foot, meet mouth. All I’m saying is I have a lot of people who depend on me, and I can’t risk their safety.  _

_ Right now, I am just trying to see if there is something I can do to find something or someone in particular in the otherworlds. I’m able to find some people, but not always. _

_ Don’t get yourself in trouble for me! _

_Your paranoid friend,_ _  
__Stiles._

Stiles smiles at his signature, and ramblings, before finally hitting send. 

Derek starts to shift beside Stiles, and complains in half grunts at his body for waking up.

Stiles thinks back from the first time he and Derek slept in the same bed, and can’t remember a single time Derek was awake by his own volition before Stiles. Well, except for Christmas Day when he made breakfast. Apparently, Derek has been making breakfast every day for a while and Stiles didn’t know because he never leaves his room, and always assumed someone else made it. 

The point is that Derek is definitely not a morning person, and never will be.

Stiles watches the muscles in Derek’s back clench and release, his snuffles filtering through his pillow as he fights consciousness, and the way his boxers hang low on his hips. Stiles glances toward the cracked bedroom door and slips out of bed to go close it. 

One of the downsides of soundproof rooms is just that. They are soundproof, and if something were to happen downstairs, Derek and Stiles would have no idea. So, the agreement in the house is to keep your door open unless it  _ needs  _ to be closed. Read: If you are changing (which isn’t even a thing because they have all seen each other naked), or are engaging in sexy times, close the door and spare everyone your porn.

Which is exactly what Stiles wants to instigate right now.

Stiles slips back under the covers, and slides between Derek’s spread legs. He noses the crack of Derek’s ass through his boxers, and Derek comes closer to consciousness with a hiss and a higher lift of his hips. Stiles smiles, and bites Derek’s left cheek teasingly, which earns himself a higher arch so he can pull Derek’s boxers down.

Derek turns his head, eyes still closed, and a parted lip smile makes itself known in the sunlight. 

“Good morning,” Stiles smiles, massaging the two toned globes before him.

Derek grunts in response, pressing himself into Stiles’ hands.

“If you’re not in the mood, I can go?” Stiles taunts.

“Shut up,” is all he gets in response.

Stiles licks his lips, and spreads Derek wide, before dragging his tongue across Derek’s hole, and watches Derek’s entire body react. The way his muscles tense and release, the low flush that works its way down his neck; it all drives Stiles mad.

Derek works himself against the jut of Stiles’ tongue, honestly doing most of the work, and Stiles is more than happy to be used. This goes on for minutes, until Derek’s body is begging for more, and he reaches into the bedside drawer to throw a bottle of lube in Stiles’ direction. 

“Alright, alright,” Stiles huffs. “Just lie there and let me take care of you.” Stiles runs a soothing palm up Derek’s spine to squeeze the base of his neck. 

Stiles has been extra stubborn and disagreeable since his dad showed up during training the other day.

Derek wants to tell the Sheriff about their lives, and officially bring him into the pack like Chris and Melissa, but Stiles refuses to listen to reason. As far as Stiles is concerned, his dad will be safer not knowing, and nothing Derek has said has changed his opinion. Not to mention, it’s  _ his  _ dad, and  _ he  _ has the final say.

Stiles also hasn’t let go of the fact that Derek still holds back when they train. Stiles can see where he’s coming from, but he hates admitting that he isn’t as strong and still needs everyone to protect him. 

Then there’s the fact that Derek didn’t know how much money Stiles has been spending on supplies for his magic, which has spurred a whole new disagreement. Derek insists that Stiles let him pay for all the supplies since he has plenty of money, and Stiles is creating magic for the pack anyway. Stiles doesn’t want Derek’s money. This is nonnegotiable.

So, with all of these things tensing up the last day and a half, Stiles needs to apologize. How does Stiles apologize? With two slick fingers dancing the tango against Derek’s prostate.

The sounds Derek makes as he drools on his pillow, confirm that Stiles is doing just what he planned to do. Each gasp and moan heats Stiles further, and he finds himself thrusting against the mattress in the same rhythm.

“Stiles,” Derek gasps. “I need…”

Stiles stops and moves up the bed. “What do you need?” 

Derek sticks his ass out in response, spreading his knees wide. 

Stiles slicks himself and lines them up, he slides in slowly with little resistance, having spent extra time working Derek open this morning. 

Derek’s claws pop out and slash through the pillow when Stiles bottoms out.

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles smirks with a rough voice against Derek’s ear as he settles on top of him. “This what you need?”

Derek nods his head, and Stiles starts slow, finding a rhythm easily and slams into Derek on his seventh thrust. Derek’s eyes burn red at the shock before he matches Stiles’ pace when it resumes its slow rhythm. 

Stiles continues this, slamming in on every seventh stroke, until Derek’s panting, claws out, eyes burning red, and fangs out. When he feels Derek near his release, Stiles rolls them onto their side, and wraps his arms around Derek, sucking bruising kisses along the line of Derek’s shoulder as he continues his torturously slow pace. 

Derek clings to Stiles’ forearm over his chest, and reaches his other arm around to grab Stiles’ ass and urge him to both move faster and hold back.

Stiles flicks a nipple with his thumb, and Derek cries out. “That’s right, Derek. Let go for me.”

Derek throws his head back to rest against Stiles’ shoulder and pillow, his mouth wide and feral.

Stiles cranes his neck as far as he can, to lick Derek’s pulse point and watch his throat constrict with pleasure. When Stiles bites down on his pulse, Derek comes with a roar, and Stiles follows shortly after. 

Derek’s body goes limp, and his face returns to normal. Stiles rubs the streaks across Derek’s stomach into his skin, the way he knows Derek likes, and covers them up for a nap before they officially get up for the day.

Derek doesn’t complain and remains warm and pliant against Stiles’ chest, trusting his lover to take care of him. 

* * *

 

**To:** [](mailto:stilinski24@gmail.com) **stilinski24@gmail.com** **  
** **From:** [](mailto:wikiwho@gmail.com) **wikiwho@gmail.com** ****  
**Date: June 17, 2016** **  
** **Subject: RE: Traveling?**

_ I’ve got bad news.  _

_ My mom caught me and knows I’m talking to a stranger about these things, and she’s not too thrilled. She insisted I ask you to dinner, so she can decide for herself that you aren’t going to bring trouble. She said as long as I’m right (which I am) then she will help you. _

_ I’m really sorry, I tried to be sneaky, but nothing gets past her. I didn’t tell her anything about you, just that you came into the shop and I found out that you have been alone in this, so I’ve been helping.  _

_ It doesn’t seem like the answers you are looking for with Traveling are really that imperative, so you don’t have to struggle with the decision to come to dinner. You are more than welcome, but as you mentioned, you need to protect your identity for your friends and family. _

_ She did remind me to tell you that you really don’t have to worry about other emissaries wanting to cause you harm because we by nature are unable to hurt innocence. Believe me, I pointed out how hypocritical that was, considering she’s insisting she meet you.  _

_ That all being said, I will respond to the rest of your email now. _

_ As I’ve said, I’m happy to help in any way that I can. So there’s no need to keep thanking me.  _

_ I know you asked me not to fret over it, but I am so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine what this is like for you. _

_ As far as finding something specific in the otherworlds, I would recommend focusing on the target until it’s the only thing on your mind. Maybe accent your circle with something that has a tie to what you’re looking for. I know this is what you have been trying, but I feel like you are on the right track, it’s not like there’s a phone book to the otherworlds. _

_The least sneaky sneak ever,_ _  
__Wiki._

Stiles drops his phone with a thunk on his bedside table after he reads her email. 

“What’s the matter?” Derek muffles, rubbing his eyes next to him, trying to force himself to wake up.

“Nothing, go back to sleep. I just dropped my phone.” Stiles lies. When Derek continues to rub his eyes, Stiles crawls over on all fours and sucks a slow kiss. It only takes a few seconds for Derek to relax, and Stiles bumps their noses before he slowly crawls out of bed and to the bathroom to start his day.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Stiles see that he’s paler than he’s been in a long time. He can’t remember when he last spent more than an hour under the sun. His hair is longer than Scott’s was freshman year, and he is in desperate need of a shower, another thing he can’t remember doing recently. 

Stiles steps away from the mirror and leans against the door jam to admire the morning sun filter in through their window, and dance warm patterns across Derek’s tan skin. 

The last week has been nice, and Stiles is starting to forget why he ever thought neglecting his pack was necessary. Since he forced himself to make time for them, they have all been happier, Derek’s frown is almost gone, and Stiles is motivated to figure out a plan, because he can’t lose this.

He thinks about the things he still needs to work out. He needs to figure out how to help Derek shift; how to fight Peter; how to locate him, and how to locate-

“Nope,” Stiles mumbles through a mouthful of toothpaste, spitting into the sink. “Nope.” He wipes his mouth, determined not to think about it. He runs a hand through his hair and not only does it stick straight up, defying the laws of physics, but he now feels like he needs to wash his hands. “Shower time, it is.” 

He drops his boxers while the water heats up, and opens their bedroom door so Derek can hear the rest of the house if he needs to. 

Stiles has barely slipped into the shower when a sleepwalking alpha werewolf climbs in behind him. “Good morning,” Stiles smiles, still getting his hair wet so he can wash it. “Again.” 

Derek barely smirks, his face still heavy with sleep.

“I feel like showering with me will be counterproductive for you. Do you realize how dirty I am?” Stiles laughs loading some shampoo into his hands and turning to face Derek as he works it through his long hair.

Derek huffs a laugh, and flicks his nose, his eyes finally opening. “Oh, I was aware.”

Stiles gapes at him, and shoves his shoulder with a slippery hand. “Jerk.”

Derek rolls his eyes and slips his arms around Stiles’ waist. “Did I complain?”

Stiles continues scrubbing his hair, “No, but that’s because you’re weird and get off on eau de Stiles.”

“Shut up.” Derek shakes his head and turns them so he can get his hair wet and lather up as well.

Stiles laughs and switches places with him again to rinse his hair and repeat. It definitely needs a double wash. 

Stiles is just about done and ready to get out of the shower when Derek pushes him against the wall and levels him with a predatory eye. 

“The bedroom door isn’t closed,” Stiles warns him, wishing he hadn’t opened it, so they could have some fun.

“Yes it is.” Derek smirks, eyes darting down to Stiles lips.

Stiles eyes flicker between Derek’s eyes and lips as well. “So you knew exactly what you wanted before you even climbed in the shower with me.”

Derek nods, bumping their noses, before latching onto his lips.

Stiles lets himself melt into Derek, feeling clean, and new, and honestly vulnerable. When he gets out of the shower he has to figure out at least one of his problems before pack movie night. With Derek finally awake, Stiles lets him take the lead and enjoys every rough second of it.

* * *

 

Boyd and Erica show up with a stack of pizzas, and the night of pack bonding officially starts with hungry wolves devouring a whole pie each. 

Derek plants himself on the sofa like he does every Friday. Usually Isaac takes the other side, but just as he’s making his way over Stiles comes downstairs.

The room goes quiet and all look over at him, not sure what he’s doing. Derek senses some worry clouding the space, like they think something might be wrong. When Stiles plops down next to Derek and steals a slice of pizza from his plate, Derek and the pack happily realize he’s planning to spend the night with them.

Derek wasn’t sure if he was reading Stiles right all week, but this solidifies it for him. 

Stiles is trying to spend more time with the pack.

The others must realize this too because the room clouds with affection and joy almost immediately. Derek rests his arm against the back of the couch, and Stiles shifts to lean against his chest, and eat his stolen slice of pizza. 

“So what are we watching tonight?” Stiles asks around a mouthful.

Isaac perks up and settles onto the floor in front of them. “Lydia rented  _ Cloud Atlas _ .”

“It’s amazing. You’re all going to love it,” she smiles, eating her own slice.

Stiles grins back and drops the crust of his slice back onto Derek’s plate. He pillows his head against Derek’s shoulder and closes his eyes with a deep breath.

Derek knows something is bothering Stiles, and he hasn’t told Derek what that is yet, but hopefully a night with the pack will help. 

Everyone calms down when the movie starts, and Derek watches Stiles open a book next to him, with a small reading light clipped to the back. Derek tries to read the contents to see if it’s for leisure or one of the books he bought from the apothecary. 

He sees herbs, and latin names littering the page, and knows it’s one of the books he bought. 

Stiles has a blank document open on his phone and is studiously taking notes. 

Derek lets it be and tries to focus on the movie. At least Stiles is downstairs with the pack, instead of holed up in their room.

* * *

 

The pack doesn’t want to let the night end after the movie, and Derek knows it’s because they want to spend more time with Stiles. 

Whether Stiles will accept it or not, he  _ is  _ the center of the pack, and his absence throws everyone off balance. They came together protecting  _ him  _ from the alphas, and  _ he  _ managed to save them all in the end.

Stiles is the heart of the pack.

Even though Peter hasn’t come around since earlier in the week, the pack stay another night. They only disperse once they realize that Stiles is itching to get back upstairs.

Derek secures the house and makes his way up to their room. Stiles is sitting in the middle of their bed with a litter of items cluttered in front of him. Derek doesn’t say anything and pushes the door to before he starts to pull off his shirt for bed.

Stiles speaks up, letting a highlighter fall from his mouth. “Shut the door.”

Derek doesn’t ask why, but something tells him they aren’t about to have sex. When the door is shut, Stiles taps the mattress in front of him, indicating that he should sit there. “What are we doing?” Derek asks after they are both sitting with items sprinkled between them.

“I’ve been trying to understand your full shift, and I think I’ve figured it out,” Stiles says, sorting things again.

“Stiles,” Derek breathes, “You don’t have to worry about that, maybe I’m just not meant to reach full wolf form.”

Stiles looks up at him, his hair falling into his face now that it’s clean and not sticking together in clumps. “Shut up, yes you are.” Stiles scratches his chin and Derek listens to how his nails scrape against the patches of hair on his face. 

Since Stiles let his work consume him, he only shaves when it starts to bother his skin. Judging by his constant scratching, that will be soon. 

“Okay,” Stiles claps his hands together. “How do you feel about a necklace?”

Derek levels a glare at him.

“You already wear the tracking device, and It’s the only thing I can come up with that will stay with you when you shift.” Stiles picks up the leather cord. “How big was your neck when you shifted?”

Derek shrugs, he wasn’t really paying attention to his collar size when he managed to shift. 

“See?” Stiles grumbles. “This is why you should have taken me with you.”

The few times that Derek managed the shift he was patrolling the reserve, and Stiles didn’t actually get to see it. Derek had no control of it, it just happened. He’s tried to do it with Stiles and it hasn’t worked since.

“Stiles it’s not that big of-”

Stiles cuts him off as he starts sliding things onto the cord. “I’ve attached elastic in the back which will give an extra five inches if necessary, and it should hang at your breastbone under your clothes. People will only ever see the cord unless you are shirtless.”

“Stiles.”

“I’ve soaked the cord all day in Clove, Sage, and Yucca to cleanse and center your core energy.” Stiles picks up a few small crystals that have been wound in wire so they will remain connected once the cord has been threaded through the small eye at the top of each. “These are different African and Madagascar crystals which bring primal energies to the surface, and should help you connect to your wolf.” 

“Stiles.”

“This is a shark tooth.” Stiles continues like Derek isn’t trying to talk to him. “The tooth is for primal power and protection. So, if this all works the way I want, the soaked cord will cleanse you, the crystals will bring your wolf closer to the surface, and the tooth with protect you and your wolf.”

“Stiles!” Derek shouts.

Stiles doesn’t flinch, he just freezes. He doesn’t look up, but Derek can see his nostrils flaring. 

“Why won’t you listen to me?”

Stiles body tenses further, “Because you’re just going to try and talk me out of this, because you don’t want me to stress over you, and you don’t want to fail me.”

“That’s not…” Derek starts.

Stiles flips his head up with burning eyes. “Yes, it is. You do this every time. Just let me help you. I may not have any teacher, but I can figure this out.”

“I know you can,” Derek reassures him. He considers trying to tell Stiles to focus on the bigger problems, that it’s fine, but he already knows that Stiles isn’t going to hear any of that tonight. 

Stiles ties the ends of the cord together, and his fingers spark as he binds the material.

“Why do you want me to shift so badly?” Derek asks.

“I was never allowed to have a dog growing up.” Stiles retorts in monotone, because they’ve had this conversation many times.

“Have you talked to my mom anymore about this?” Derek asks, reaching for the cord.

Stiles’ hands flare bright. “I don’t want to talk to your damn mom.” His teeth clench, and he clasps his fist to lessen the flame.

Derek blinks. “What?” What happened? Why is Stiles so hostile? Did his mom say something to him?

Stiles pushes himself off the bed, and puts some distance between them, “No, not like that, shit. I meant-” Stiles tries to apologize, agony pouring out of every pore.  

Derek stands up and walks over to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Stiles waves him off, his eyes hard. “I’m just stressed, and I’ve been trying to help you make this shift for over a year, and…”

Derek stands in front of Stiles and lifts his chin, “Stiles, please don’t lie to me. Tell me. Let me help.”

That must have been the wrong thing to do because Stiles throws his hand off and storms across the room to the bathroom and slams the door.

Derek stands outside the door and listens to Stiles’ harsh breathing choke with quiet sobs through the thin wood. Derek drops his head against the door, with a flat palm wishing it could reach through the wood and ease Stiles’ pain. “Stiles, tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you. Please.”

The door flies open and Derek almost faceplants into Stiles’ chest. 

“How are you going to help, exactly?” Stiles shouts, shoving him. “How are you going to help me find  _ my  _ mom?!”

Derek’s heart shatters, and having said it out loud, Stiles breaks and falls to the ground. 

Stiles slides until he’s pressed against the foot of their bed, and drops his head between his knees, trying to even his breathing as he quietly sobs. 

Derek wishes he wasn’t so dense, he should have thought about this. He’s been so happy to have seen his family, that he didn’t even think about the fact that Stiles might be looking for his mom. Derek wants to ask him questions, find out how long he’s been looking, and how long Derek hasn’t noticed the struggle. 

He can’t though, because he needs to take care of Stiles. He knows now, and it’s his job to help carry that pain. Derek kneels in front of Stiles and pushes the hair out of his face to find soaked cheeks and distant eyes. Derek wraps his body around Stiles, and lifts Stiles’ hand to rest over his chest. “Breathe with me, Stiles. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you. Breathe.” 

Derek keeps this up for almost a half hour, promising that everything is going to be okay, and begging Stiles to breathe. 

When Stiles finally collapses against him, Derek curls one arm around his back and the other under his ass, and stands, keeping their chests together, so Stiles doesn’t lose the constant in and out that he’s told Derek helps him in the past.

Stiles’ legs slip around Derek’s hips and hang loosely down to Derek’s shins. He’s only supported by Derek’s arm holding his back and the other cupped under his thighs. 

Derek carries him to the bathroom and sets him on the counter, careful to keep their chests connected. Stiles’ arms haven’t moved and remain clasped to Derek’s undershirt. 

“You’re perfect,” Derek continues. “You’re strong. You’re beautiful. You’re mine. You’re okay. I’ve got you. I won’t leave you.” Derek wets a rag and uses it to wipe the sweat from Stiles’ neck and face. 

Stiles starts to tug at his shirt, wanting it off his sticky skin, his mouth forming silent words.

“Okay,” Derek whispers and gently pulls the shirt over his head. 

Stiles starts to shiver, so Derek rubs the sweat from his body with a warm towel, and takes off his own shirt to press their skin together. 

“Are you thirsty?” Derek asks, knowing he is, but trying to see if he can talk yet.

Stiles croaks a syllable before nodding his head.

Derek reaches for a plastic cup on the counter and fills it with water. He holds it to Stiles’ lips and color finally returns to Stiles’ cheeks. “That’s it. Good, just a little more.” 

It takes a few minutes but Stiles finishes the cup, and drops his head to Derek’s chest, and coils his arms around Derek’s back.

Derek scrubs the side of his cheek against Stiles temple. “I’ve got you.”

They stay like that for a few more minutes before Derek picks Stiles up again, not because he has to, but because he needs to prove that he can help. He can take care of his mate when it all gets to be too much. He needs to prove that if nothing else, Stiles can hide behind him and pretend nothing is wrong. That as long as Derek is there, nothing will hurt him.

Derek cleans the bed off, still carrying Stiles, who silently buries his face in Derek’s neck. It’s moments like these that Derek appreciates his supernatural strength. He doesn’t need it to fight, or to prove his dominance. He can use it to carry Stiles, who has bulked up enough that a human would only be able to carry him a dozen feet before feeling the strain. Derek is able to hold him as long as Stiles needs.

Once the bed is cleared, Derek cracks the bedroom door, knowing that with the events of the past hour, Stiles isn’t going to want to do anything but sleep. He pulls the covers back and sits down on the mattress, Stiles’ knees bending beside his thighs. Derek twists until his back rests against the headboard, and pulls the covers over Stiles and slides the two of them down, leaving Derek on his back, and Stiles cradled on top of him.

After another few minutes, Stiles adjusts, and settles his head against Derek’s sternum to listen to his heart, and soon drifts to sleep. 

Derek strokes Stiles’ skin for hours, wondering not only how long Stiles has been trying, but why he hasn’t been able to find her. 

How can he have found Derek’s entire family, but can’t find  _ his  _ mom? Shouldn’t that have been the first person to have found him when he started traveling? Where is she?

Derek imagines that his questions are only a fraction of the burden Stiles has been holding, especially after the attack he had tonight. That wasn’t normal. That was months of pain, finally coming to the surface and shattering his carefully sculpted facade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't listen to the song for the chapter, I unsist you do now after that last scene. [Beside You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=inIOgRBBTBE)
> 
> Another massive thank you to you beauties :D [Krist](http://notvirginawoolf.tumblr.com/) [Elise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GrangerPeavon/pseuds/GrangerPeavon) [Eustilly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eustilly/pseuds/eustilly)
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at my [Main Blog](http://tamzstripped.tumblr.com/) or [Sterek Corner!](http://littleredsterek.tumblr.com/)
> 
> See you guys tomorrow! 
> 
> P.S. Please say nice things to me...


	5. In the house I grew up in.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the fifth day of Christmas I gave to my boo! Five good hours.
> 
> Another big thank you to my amazing betas [Krist](http://notvirginawoolf.tumblr.com/) [Elise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GrangerPeavon/pseuds/GrangerPeavon) [Eustilly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eustilly/pseuds/eustilly)
> 
> This chapter title come from [Acadia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBwDo3vgXlc) by Marianas Trench.

Peter lurked in the preserve and around Beacon Hills to gather information that could help him achieve his goal.

He worried that his goal would be harder to achieve than expected until the day he eavesdropped on a particularly sensitive discussion.

A survivor of the newest Alpha’s pack had reached out to the Hales after seeing Peter lead the Alphas away. Meaning Derek now knew that he had led the Alphas to Beacon Hills. Instead of panicking, Peter decided his best option was to hide in plain sight. When they found him, it wouldn’t look like he’d been up to anything.

Lydia and Allison found him the next day.

Peter played things as naturally as he could, and allowed them to lead the conversation. It was only a matter of minutes before he finally found his opportunity to play  _ both  _ sides.

If the Alphas decided to recruit Derek over him, then he could fall back on the Hale Pack and dissuade Derek from joining. As long as Derek wasn’t an option for the Alphas, Peter would secure his place with the Alphas. Not to mention he would gain the Hale Pack trust, get closer, and make the kill. It’s an ideal situation, honestly.

He played innocent and insisted that he meant to lead the alphas  _ away _ . While he led the Alphas further north, they realized he was a  _ Hale _ , and turned around to make their way for Beacon Hills. 

Peter told Lydia and Allison that he raced back to protect the pack, but he knew that they wouldn’t believe him if he went straight to Derek. He knew he didn’t have the best track record and had a lot to make up for. So he decided to get close to the Alphas and find their weakness. 

By some miracle the girls believed they had the upper hand and demanded that Peter tell them everything from that point forward. As if things couldn’t get any better, they informed him that Derek would be on a ‘ _ Need To Know _ ’ basis. 

Peter believed that he could lead the girls on a path of his choice and manipulate the entire pack’s course through the two of them. It was the most beneficial turn of events possible because he knew that if Derek knew he was their mole, he wouldn’t be as easily fooled.

* * *

* * *

 

Derek wakes up with Stiles still on top of him, but awake and lazily tracing his fingers across his skin. Derek’s hands are resting on Stiles’ hips, and Stiles fell between his legs in the middle of the night. Derek slides his fingers up Stiles’ flanks and feels the goosebumps rise in their wake. “How long have you been looking for her?” Derek asks, cutting right to it, instead of ignoring the problem as Stiles would like to do.

Stiles lets out a long breath through his nose. “Since the first time I met your mom.”

Derek blinks, “That was over a year ago.”

Stiles nods weakly against his chest.

“Have you talked to anyone about it?” Derek asks, already knowing the answer.

“Not really,” Stiles mumbles. “I’ve had more important things to focus on, ya know? And I didn’t want pity, or for everyone to try to help me find her. I wouldn’t be able to ignore it, and it would have hurt more to know everyone was aware I couldn’t find her.”

Derek nods, burying his nose in Stiles’ hair. “We would have understood. It’s not selfish to want to find your mom.”

Stiles wipes at his nose at the same moment Derek feels a tear hit his chest. “I just… you’ve seen your whole family, and got some closure, and once I get my shit together, you might be able to see them a lot more… but I can’t find my mom.” Stiles sniffs, not moving his ear from Derek’s heartbeat. “Talia said that sometimes the person you are looking for has to be looking for you too, or open to you finding them…”

Derek’s heart constricts, knowing where Stiles’ mind has been stuck.

“She’s not trying to find me. Why doesn’t she want to see me? What did I do wrong?”

“No, hey.” Derek says, scratching Stiles’ scalp. “I don’t think she’s avoiding you. I’m sure there are plenty of other reasons that are keeping her from you. She will come, Stiles.” Derek kisses his forehead, and Stiles chokes on a sob.

Stiles tries to hold back the pain, and even tries to get up.

Derek holds him down with strong soothing hands. “It’s okay. Let it out. You don’t have to hide from me.”

Stiles nods, and clings to Derek and lets out a year's worth of tears, and Derek takes all of it.

Eventually, Stiles falls back asleep and Derek picks his phone up to arrange a day with Stiles’ dad. As much as Derek would prefer to stay in bed with Stiles all day, he knows that the best thing for him right now is some much needed quality time with his dad.

* * *

 

When Stiles wakes up he lets himself relax into a few more minutes of comfort in Derek’s arms. Stiles actually finds himself thankful that the Alphas came to town, because that was the catalyst that allowed him to fall in love with Derek. He can’t imagine going through this alone.

Stiles listens to the steady heartbeat below him that has offered solace since his panic attack last night. The last time Stiles had one that bad, was during the first six months after his mom passed.

Derek starts to shift, his hands sliding along his sides again, reminding Stiles that he will lie there as long as Stiles needs him to.

Stiles taps Derek’s chest and kisses his sternum before pressing himself up and off the bed. “Thank you.”

Derek sits up and stretches. “I’ll always be here for you.” He promises. “Just try not to let it get this bad in the future, let me help you.”

Stiles nods, and makes his way to the bathroom grabbing his phone to respond to Wiki’s email from the day before.

Stiles brushes his teeth, shaves, and showers in attempt to make himself feel normal again. The thought that his mom doesn’t want to see him won’t go away though. He was always a problem when he was a kid, and even now he still causes more problems than fixes them.

Derek doesn’t join Stiles in the shower, which either means something is going on downstairs, or he’s up to something. Stiles rolls his eyes at how obvious Derek can be. Derek’s an idiot, but he’s  _ his  _ idiot.

Stiles turns off the shower and gets dressed before heading downstairs. When he walks into the kitchen, Scott ends a call abruptly and turns to Stiles with a blinding smile. 

“He lives!” Scott throws two fists in the air. “It’s nearly lunch, and you’re usually up at the crack of dawn!”

Stiles shrugs and sits on the stool that Derek points to before placing a full plate of food in front of him. Stiles has only taken two bites when his phone rings in his pocket. Stiles pulls it out and it’s his dad. 

“Who could be calling you?” Scott asks with a far too dramatic confused face. “We’re all here…”

Stiles rolls his eyes and answers. “Hey, Pops. What’s up?” Stiles is impressed with how normal his voice sounds after the events of the night.

“I’m thinking about turning the spare room into a gym, any way I can convince you and some of your friends to help me clean it out today?” His dad says with stilted words.

Stiles looks up at Scott who immediately looks away, and Derek who has his back to him as he washes dishes. Stiles scoffs at the two least subtle people he knows. “Scott put you up to this, didn’t he?”

His dad doesn’t respond for a minute, before he sighs. “He may have called me and said that I needed to get you out of the house for a day.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, dad.” Stiles tells him, then looks between his boyfriend and best friend. “None of you do. I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are, son. But I still think you should come over, I can’t remember the last time we spent time together.”

“I dunno,” Stiles smirks. “I seem to remember you coming over a few days ago and chewing me out about frivolous spending, fight clubs, and my future.”

“I expect you to be at the house when I get off work, if you don’t come I’ll stop for Marty’s and order large fries,” his dad challenges.

“You’re evil.” Stiles groans. “Fine.” Stiles sees Derek hiding a smile. “I’ll see you later, dad. And I’m throwing out any junk food you think you’ve hidden in the kitchen. I know all your hiding spots.” Stiles hangs up after his dad grumbles about controlling children who need to worry about themselves.

Stiles looks between the two sets of eyes trained on him. “There isn’t a chance in hell that you two are going to let me go alone, is there?”

Scott smiles, walks over, and clasps his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Nope.”

Stiles rolls his eyes but finishes his food quickly, then takes it to the sink.

Scott calls from the front door, “I’ll wait by the jeep!”

Stiles waits until he hears the door close. “You told Scott to call my dad, didn’t you?”

Derek dries his hands on a towel. “I did.”

“You know I’m okay, right? It was just a moment of weakness. I’ll be fine.” Stiles wants to reassure Derek that he’s going to be fine. He’s not broken, just stressed. He’s also unsure of what to think about Derek arranging for him to get out of the house when all Stiles wants to do is lie in bed with Derek for the rest of the day.

Derek nods. “I know.” He turns to Stiles, and reaches to pull him closer. “I know you are, but I think you’ve spent a lot of time away from your dad and should dedicate the day to catching up.”

“He’s not even going to be there until after five,” Stiles argues, thinking about the hours he and Derek could be together.

Derek leans down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Just go. If you really don’t want to be there, you can come back and wait for him to get off, but I think you need it.”

“Fine.” Stiles groans, knowing Derek is probably right, and kisses him before he leaves. 

* * *

 

When they pull up to his dad’s house, Stiles feels something inside of him release. “Dammit, Derek. You think you’re  _ so  _ smart, don’t you?”

Scott looks over at him as he climbs out of the jeep. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” Stiles waves, and climbs out of the car, with his house key already in hand. When they get inside Stiles goes straight to the kitchen to look for hidden goodies because he’s feeling particularly ornery. 

Scott does a patrol of the house out of habit to make sure it’s safe, because Stiles hasn’t managed to sneak over and ward his dad’s house. 

Stiles realizes that he really must not be himself, because this would have been a perfect opportunity to do it. After training night, when Stiles figured out that the four corner idea worked, he made sets for everyone. Erica and Boyd’s place have it set up, Allison took hers home to her dad’s house, Jackson and Lydia both warded their homes, and Stiles has his dad’s sitting by the front door.

Stiles makes a mental note to bring them over tomorrow, or have Derek bring them later. He is looking in the last kitchen cabinet, when his mind just  _ breaks _ . “Okay, what? Where are all the processed fatty foods, and MSG’s? Am I in the right house?”

Scott laughs and comes to sit at the dining room table. “My mom has been taking care of him for you.”

“Yeah, but she can’t watch him all the time, he’s sneaky. He  _ sneaks  _ things.” Stiles leans forward with his hands in front of him like it’s obvious that something weird is going on here.

Scott laughs, “Well since my mom moved in, she does all the grocery shopping.”

Stiles balks. “Since she  _ what _ ?”

Scott squints at him. “ _Moved_ _in_ … you didn’t know?”

“No!” Stiles shouts. “When? When did this happen? How did I not know?”

Scott laughs harder. “They started dating after we caught them making out in the kitchen at Christmas. They moved in together a couple months ago.”

“You’re lying, my dad would have told me,” Stiles argues, crossing his arms.

Scott shrugs, “You’ve been busy, they wanted to tell you when you came over for dinner, but you haven’t been able to in a few months.”

“So it’s my fault. Got it,” Stiles huffs walking away and heading upstairs. How did he not know?

“No.” Scott groans, following him to his room. “I didn’t mean it like that, we all understand how hard you’ve been working. Your dad doesn’t  _ really _ , but he doesn’t mind. He knows you’re an adult now.”

Stiles flips on Scott. “Where are  _ you  _ staying? Did your mom sell the house? Have you taken over  _ my _ room?”

“Relax. She’s working on selling it, and I’ve been staying there, or with Allison and her dad. They hope that by the time it sells, I’ll be at college.”

Stiles sighs and opens the door to his room and walks straight to his bed to faceplant. 

Scott laughs at him before coming to sit at the foot of the bed. 

“Have I really been that busy?” Stiles asks through a pillow.

Scott comes to lay in front of him like they used to. “Kinda, but we get it. Don’t worry about it.”

Stiles peaks out at him. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying…”

Scott smiles. “We know, you’ve been around a lot more this week. You even shaved today.” Scott pokes his cheek. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Stiles asks, worried that he left the bedroom door open and everyone heard his breakdown last night, but he remembers it being closed. 

Scott looks him in the eye. “We could smell it on Derek, and caught chemosignals all night. We knew something was wrong.”

Stiles averts his eyes. “Oh.”

Scott scoots closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Ok.” Scott accepts his answer. “Wanna play some video games?”

A small smile spreads across Stiles’ face. “Please.”

They play games for hours, and Stiles finds himself thinking back on how much has changed in his life in the last four years. 

He thinks back to summer days like this where he and Scott would spend hours playing the xbox and complaining about their lack of social lives, and how they were going to do big things when they grew up. 

He thinks back to grade school sandboxes. Playing with his mom in the back yard after school to work off his excess energy. How he used to slave over his homework because he  _ had  _ to be as smart as the girl of his dreams if he wanted her to notice him. How he had a whole  _ ten year plan _ to get Lydia to fall in love with him.

How all Stiles wanted was to be noticed and to get a  _ girlfriend  _ freshman year, and Scott fought to make the first line because he was  _ sure  _ that would solve all of his problems. 

How Peter bit Scott after Stiles dragged his best friend out into the preserve because he needed more excitement in his life. How looking for a dead body lead him to falling in love with the murdered girl’s brother, Derek. 

How he and Scott went through a year of chaos trying to find their footing in this new supernatural world.

How Stiles risked his life time and time again when he could have washed his hands of the whole situation.

How he became a target for the Alpha pack, and had more than one awakening. He realized how embedded he was in this life, and that there wasn’t any escape. That he  _ was  _ actually attractive to gay guys, and hey! He was attracted to  _ them  _ too. His magic finally awoke, and he saved more than one life with both his magic and his brain.

Stiles has learned a lot and been through hell in the last few years. He realizes he should give himself more credit. He’s not useless, he’s just still learning.

Stiles grins to himself and pulls out his cell phone to text Derek.

**Stiles:** **_i love you._ **

Before Stiles can put his phone away, his phone chimes with a new message.

**Derek:** **_I love you, too. I’m glad you’re feeling better._ **

Stiles smiles, and debates on his response. He decides to just say it.

**Stiles:** **_Thank you for knowing me._ **

**Derek:** **_I’ll show you just how well I know you, tonight. ;)_ **

It’s the wink that sends Stiles into a giggle fit. He somehow formulates a response through his blinding laughter.

**Stiles:** **_I’m holding you to that. ;)_ **

Scott finally notices that Stiles hasn’t been playing and that’s why he’s winning. “What’s so funny?” Scott asks, pausing the game.

Stiles collects himself and looks around his room. “Our life.”

Scott looks around and seems to follow Stiles thoughts because a nostalgic smile spreads as he nods.

Stiles gets a sudden idea, “Get up, we’re going grocery shopping.”

“What? I was finally kicking your ass!” Scott complains.

“Only because I wasn’t playing the last few minutes,” Stiles scoffs, pulling out one of his old jackets. “Come on, we’re having a cookout with our family.”

“I’m sure there’s enough food already in the fridge.” Scott frowns.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Not this new  _ meshed  _ family, that I  _ just  _ found out about, I mean our  _ family.”  _ Stiles raises his eyes hoping Scott will understand he’s talking about all their families, and the pack.

Scott makes an ‘Oh’ face.

“Yeah,” Stiles laughs. “Now get up, and move your ass!”

“Alright, alright. So bossy,” Scott mumbles, but he bounds down the stairs after Stiles.

* * *

 

Stiles has Scott drive so he can call everyone and demand they bring their asses to the best cookout of their lives. His dad puts up a little bit of a fight because he wasn’t planning on having twelve people in his house when he got off work, but Stiles pointed out that he got himself into this when he agreed to con Stiles into coming over in the first place.

At the grocery store Stiles sent Scott in one direction with half the list (sorted by store layout), and went the other way with his half. If Scott didn’t get distracted, they would meet in the middle and check out. 

They make it to the checkout with two full carts in just under an hour. 

Scott looks at the mountain of food, and back at Stiles. “How are we going to pay for this?” 

Stiles grumbles and pulls out the credit card Derek insisted Stiles keep for groceries and other pack related events. “Derek demands I use this when I spend money on the pack. So… yeah.”

“Aww,” Scott coos. “When’s the wedding?”

Stiles shoves him out of the line. “Shut up.”

Scott recovers and comes to lean back on his cart behind Stiles. “No, seriously. Maybe I should get  _ myself  _ a Derek. I can be a trophy wife...” Scott mocks, pretending to think it over.

“You’re officially uninvited to the cookout,” Stiles says, without turning to look at his friend.

“But?” 

Stiles rolls his eyes, and finally turns back around. “Put the puppy eyes away, you’re still invited.”

Scott beams back and scoots his cart closer to be checked out.

* * *

 

The best part about being surrounded by werewolves is getting away without doing any manual labor. Stiles unlocks the house with a load of bags but once he’s inside he goes to the kitchen to start prepping for the meal, while Scott carries in three hundred pounds of food to feed a ravenous pack of adolescent wolves. 

Each time Scott comes in with a new load of bags, Stiles shoots him a cheesy smile, which makes Scott roll his eyes before he heads back out. Stiles isn’t a terrible best friend though, so when Scott brings in the last bag, he has a tall glass of iced water waiting.

Scott forgives him instantly and plants himself at the table to chug down the peace offering, and watches as Stiles unpacks the bags. 

Stiles allows Scott a few moments of rest, but as soon as his glass is empty he gives him a to do list to start prepping the back yard for the party because Stiles knows for a fact that twelve people will not fit in his childhood home. 

* * *

 

Derek arrives first, but Stiles is greasy from seasoning fifty pounds of meat, and has to wipe his hands on his apron before greeting him properly. 

“Hope you brought your appetite!” Stiles smiles, counting down the seconds until he can get his hands on Derek. Derek is literally too good to him, and Stiles knows he doesn’t deserve him. 

Before Derek can respond, Scott comes through the back door. “Oh, thank  _ God _ !” he says.

Derek barely contains a laugh and Stiles immediately knows he’s missing something.

Stiles looks between them with squinted eyes, and while Scott averts his gaze, Derek seems fairly amused. Stiles gasps at Scott, “Did you call Derek for  _ back-up _ ?”

“No!” Scott protests at the same time Derek nods a firm, “Yes.”

Stiles crosses his arms. “And you’ve gone and gotten yourself uninvited again.”

Scott pretends to pout and wanders outside to finish the tasks he’s been given.

Stiles turns back to Derek and wraps his arms around Derek’s waist. “You can stay though, I’ll deal with you later.”

Derek furrows his brows, “I didn’t do anything wrong, why am I being punished?”

Stiles winks before walking backwards toward his preparations. “Who said you were going to be  _ punished _ ?”

Derek fights a smile and follows Stiles with a deep breath. “How can I help?”

Stiles pulls him in for a quick kiss. “You can go outside with Scott and help him with his  _ oh so taxing _ duties.”

Derek gives Stiles a loose salute and heads out the back door.

* * *

 

The others begin arriving relatively quickly after John pulls into the driveway. Thanks to Derek’s help, there isn’t a delay between arrival and food. 

Not only did Derek set up the tables, chairs and grill (without needing to ask Stiles for directions), but he used his alpha status to keep Scott working. Scott would have done everything and more even if Derek hadn’t shown up, but Stiles chooses to believe that Derek played a big part in keeping Scott working hard.

Stiles stands back to mix a bowl of potato salad and listens as Derek and his dad discuss bringing the tables inside versus eating outside. Stiles knows that Derek feels they will be safer inside if Peter decides to crash the dinner, but Derek can’t exactly explain that to his dad. 

John wants to know why Derek set everything up outside and  _ now  _ wants to eat indoors. Derek gives Stiles a pointed look, reminding him that they need to bring his dad in on their lives. But all he says is that the weather report predicts rain.

His dad rubs his forehead, “Well then, why did you kids set up outside in the first place?”

Derek nods, “Because this is your house, sir, and I didn’t want to rearrange your living room without your permission.”

His dad sighs, and twists open a beer that Stiles made sure to have in the fridge ready for his dad. “Well, I wasn’t exactly consulted on having this dinner in the first place.”

Stiles turns and drops the bowl on the kitchen counter a little louder than he planned, and puts on the brightest smile he can muster. “Derek didn’t plan the party, Dad,  _ I _ did. Derek is just helping me out. If you want to eat outside we can, and hope that it  _ doesn’t  _ rain.” Stiles goes along with Derek’s excuse because he’s right. It would be safer inside. “After we’re done eating I can clean up and we can all leave if you want. I just want to have a nice dinner with our whole family.”

This seems to work, because his dad takes a swig of beer and motions to the living room. “Alright, Derek, make my son happy I guess.”

Derek nods to the Sheriff, and shakes his head at Stiles.

Stiles sticks out his tongue after his dad heads into the backyard to see if Scott needs any help with the grill.

Derek takes advantage of the empty house since everyone is outside and enjoying the sunny afternoon  (definitely no chance of rain), and walks to the kitchen and pulls Stiles toward him by a belt loop. “You’re spoiled.”

Stiles smiles, “Sure am.” 

Derek rolls his eyes, and Stiles closes the distance between them and kisses him firmly on the lips. 

“Can you believe how much has happened to get us to this point?” Stiles asks quietly, looking out into the background at Allison, Chris, Scott, Jackson, Boyd, and even Lydia playing a game of football. Stiles lets his mind wander to all the adversaries they have faced over the years, and how if anything had been different, today might not have happened. 

Derek answers with a silent kiss on the forehead before walking back to the living room to push all the remaining furniture aside, and then calls his betas from their game to help carry the tables in with everything still balanced on the surfaces.

Stiles pulls baked hot dogs out of the oven (a Claudia Stilinski recipe) and sets them on one of the tables, before clapping his hands and calling everyone in. 

They take their seats, and the house is instantly filled with noise. Some continue conversations from outside, others start new topics with the friends next to them, and Scott and Jackson start grabbing food to load their plates.

Having everyone together makes Stiles want to stand and give a toast but he is kind of enjoying the simplicity of the gathering. 

“You look great, Erica! How far along are you now?” Melissa asks, as Scott loads fruit salad onto her plate.

Erica rubs her belly like she always does when talking about Berica. “Almost eight months, and the doctor says that we’re both healthy.”

“That’s great,” Melissa smiles. “I remember when I was pregnant with Scott.” She makes a strangled noise. “That last month about killed me. My feet were cantaloupes, I was swollen everywhere.”

John looks over at her and laces their fingers together. “You were still beautiful.”

She blushes, and this is where Stiles decides to address the elephant in the room. He doesn’t want to think about how his dad remembers Melissa when she was pregnant with Scott, because as far as Stiles is concerned, if his mom were still alive, they would still be married.

“Yeah, so when were you two going to tell me about moving in together?”

They both freeze, apparently not realizing that they hadn’t.

“Yeah, I found out  _ today  _ when I came over and found the kitchen free of MSG and all your favorite snacks. Scott tells me that you do all the grocery shopping.” Stiles points to Melissa. 

Melissa looks between the Stilinski’s. “If I promise to only feed him tofu for the next week, am I forgiven?”

His dad’s jaw drops at how quickly Melissa switched sides, and Stiles decides to jump on the opportunity.

“Make it a month.”

Melissa cringes, and leans forward like what she’s about to say won't carry to everyone in the room. “Are you trying to get me kicked out  _ already _ ?”

Stiles giggles, “Two weeks and you’ve got a deal.”

“Deal.” She winks, and leans back to send an apologetic grin to John. 

John sighs, “You two are going to kill me.”

Stiles shakes his head, “We’ve been over this, pops. The whole point is to make you live longer.”

“Yeah, yeah,” His dad groans, and makes sure to lock eyes with Stiles as he loads another serving of red meat to his plate. 

Stiles allows this since he’s just conned Melissa into a tofu diet for the next two weeks.

His dad turns the conversation away from him and looks over to Allison and Chris. “So, I saw a permit come across my desk last week for Allison.”

Stiles looks to Allison for clarification as he eats his baked hot dog, memories of his mom flooding his mind at the taste.

“Oh yeah! I’m getting all the paperwork in line so I can become an official partner in my dad’s business,” she says happily, passing a bowl of tomatoes down the table.

His dad chews quickly so he can ask his next question. “So you’ve decided  _ against  _ college then?”

_ Ah _ , there it is. 

Allison takes it in stride. “Oh, of course not. I’m still going to major in Mechanical Engineering, and Business.” She steals a fry off Scott’s plate. “But until then, I’m going to start working with my dad to learn the ropes.”

Chris smiles and turns to Scott. “What are  _ your  _ plans?”

Stiles can sense the disapproval, because Chris will always think that Allison dating a wolf is a bad idea. But they all know that since she insists on dating Scott, Chris will always prefer him to any other wolf.

Scott shoves a whole hot dog into his mouth to buy himself time to answer. “Deaton got me into veterinary school, I just have to get all of my basics first. Deaton promised me an internship as soon as I graduate.”

This seems to satisfy Chris, and he nods his approval. 

Lydia decides that the parent interrogations have gone too far and speaks up next. “I’m still trying to decide on a university, and I was just passed up for a summer trip. So my future looks  _ great _ .” Her voice dripping sarcasm.

Jackson bumps her from the side, “You should take the one Derek hooked you up with.”

“I can’t and you know that, Jackson,” Lydia snipes, probably wishing she hadn’t said anything.

Derek clears his throat. “You can if you want. The first week is a lot of travel and connecting flights and trains. I spoke to my professor and he agreed that if you are on site on the first official day, you can still go.”

Lydia gives him a sad smile. “Thank you, Derek, but I can’t go.”

“If it’s just timing, then you can because I can fly you straight there after you handle your business.”

Stiles turns to Derek barely containing his desire to drown Derek in kisses for being so damn sweet. After Lydia’s breakdown at the Monday Pack Meeting, he’s found time to arrange this for her so she can still be here until after the Blood Moon.

“Are you serious?” she asks quietly.

Derek gives a short nod, averting his eyes, as a low blush spreads over his collar.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” Lydia says, suddenly aglow. “I’ll confirm that I  _ will  _ be attending.”

Everyone claps, understanding how big of a deal this is for Lydia, and how big of a deal it is that Derek went out of his way, yet again, to make a member of his pack happy.

Stiles tunes out after Isaac starts talking to his dad about enrolling in the police academy, and watches everyone interact, stuff themselves, and laugh at each other’s quirks. 

Stiles went to sleep last night thinking that everything was pointless, that he was a failure, and that the pack would be better off without him. Today, after Scott and Derek conspired to get him out of the house, Stiles realizes just how  _ wrong  _ he was.

This is his family. He needs them, and they need him.

* * *

 

After all the food is demolished, the pack sets the living room back to normal in record time, and refuse to let Stiles help. Derek even carries him up stairs over his shoulder to keep him from doing anything else.

“You shopped and cooked, let them clean up,” Derek says refusing to argue and plops him onto his bed.

Stiles is about to challenge Derek with a ‘make me’, when his dad passes by the room to tell them he’s going to shower. Stiles waves him by, and as soon as he passes Stiles whispers to Derek. “He acts all bothered by a full house, but secretly he loves it.”

“I know.” Derek smirks.

Stiles furrows his brows a moment. “Oh, yeah. Chemosignals.”

Derek nods and stretches across the mattress behind Stiles. 

Before they can even think about initiating anything, they hear a shout from downstairs.

“Derek! Peter’s outside!”

Stiles barrels down the stairs after Derek, and when they get to the back door, Derek sees Peter at the tree line and takes off like a bat out of hell. 

Jackson and Boyd follow quickly, and Chris runs out the front door to grab weapons from his truck. 

Stiles gathers Allison, Scott, Melissa, Lydia, and Erica in the living room. Once Chris gets back with weapons, Stiles allows Scott to run after the rest of his pack.

Stiles wishes now more than ever that he hadn’t forgotten the talismans he’d made for his dad's house.

The living room is chaotic as they all worry out loud about what is happening in the woods. They’re so busy thinking about the possibilities that it takes them a while to realize there’s smoke seeping from the back room downstairs.

When Stiles opens the door to investigate, the hallway is instantly filled with flames and he ushers everyone outside.

They all make it to the back yard and call the fire department. Stiles does a head count and realizes that his dad is still upstairs just as Derek comes running back with his pack. Peter is nowhere in sight.

“My dad’s still in there.” Stiles runs for the house, and Derek shoves him back and demands he wait outside.

Stiles waits a minute, trusting Derek to get his dad, but realizes that there is a chance the fire department won't get there in time, so he rushes inside to find his mom's photo albums, and anything else he can carry that belonged to her.

Stiles loses track of time, his only concern being all of his mother’s things that can’t be replaced. He’s loading up a folded sheet when Derek runs into the room.

“What the hell are you doing? Come on!” Derek grabs Stiles by the arm to physically drag him out.

“Did you get my dad?” Stiles shouts, still trying to grab more things.

“Yes, he’s already outside. The house is on fire, Stiles! You have to get out!” Derek shouts, dragging Stiles downstairs.

When they get to the back door it’s completely covered in flames, they turn to run to the front and the second floor caves in, blocking the exit. 

“Find a window!” Stiles shouts, and they only find fire.

They are standing in the middle of the house surrounded by flames, and neither of them say anything. Stiles wishes Derek had stayed outside where it was safe, but he knows if the roles had been reversed he would have run in after him too. 

Derek grabs him and pulls him close to the ground, and lies over Stiles to protect him from the active flames around them. “I can hear the trucks they are only a few minutes away. Just stay down.”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles coughs into Derek’s charred shirt. “I just wanted to get some of my mom’s things.”

“I know,” Derek says over the roar of the fire. “We’re going to be okay.”

Stiles looks around. “Derek, you can heal. Just go, it’ll be okay. You said the trucks are close. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Don’t be stupid! Get out of here!” Stiles is overcome by a coughing fit. “Just go!”

Derek tries to argue again, and Stiles shoves him. “You and the rest of the pack need to leave, because you can’t go to hospital.”

“It’s fine,” Derek shouts.

Stiles pulls at Derek’s shirt where it has burned through showing obviously charred skin. “No it’s not. They aren’t going to believe that you weren’t injured.”

Derek lifts slightly to look for a way out that they can both get through.

“Go, dammit!” Stiles chokes, shoving Derek hard. “Get out of here!”

Derek sways over Stiles’ and turns to argue again, when he abruptly climbs off of Stiles to start slapping his legs.

“What are you?” Stiles coughs, vision blurring. He looks down he sees that his pants were on fire, and all that remains is shredded denim from the knee down.

“You were…” Derek stares at Stiles pale untouched skin. “You didn’t feel that?” 

Stiles notices Derek’s hands are pink and stitching themselves back together over quickly forming blisters.

“Stiles, your legs were on  _ fire _ .”

Stiles blinks and looks around. Why couldn’t he feel it? Then it occurs to him. “Derek, I can’t feel the heat.” 

Derek, a werewolf, is sweating bullets, and Stiles, a human, remains unfazed aside from the smoke choking his lungs. 

Stiles reaches his hand carefully into a lick of flames, and after a few seconds he’s able to confirm that he’s fine. “I’m a spark, Derek. I can’t be burned…”

They both blink in amazement at the sight of Stiles’ hand flipping over in the flames, remaining pale and uncharred.

Stiles decides to risk it, and runs through the fire that was blocking the back door. He comes out on the other side to face his pack, and his father who looks like he’s seen a ghost.

Stiles ignores his dad for the moment and turns back to call to Derek. 

Derek runs through, skin burned from exposure to the fire he ran through. He stops only to make sure Stiles is fine before he calls his betas to follow him into the woods and back home. 

“What the hell is going on, Stiles?” His dad asks, in sweatpants and an old shirt which is sticking to his skin where it was wet from the shower.

Stiles collects himself and puts on the unburned pants that Scott had thrown at him before he ran off. “Dad, there is a lot we need to talk about, but right now, we need to deal with the emergency officials, and make sure they don’t know that the others were here.”

“Stiles-”

“Dad!” Stiles shouts back, throwing his ruined pants into the house to burn away the evidence of his spark. “Just trust me on this, they can’t know that they were here. I promise I will explain later.”

The firefighters and deputies arrive a few minutes later.

It takes half an hour to put out the fire, and another hour before they deem everyone healthy enough not to need to go to the hospital. It was a harder fight for Stiles since his lungs took a harder beating from being in the house for so long. The only reason Stiles isn’t carted to the hospital is Melissa’s promise to watch over him.

She’s not actually coming with him though, because she knows Derek will let her know the second things get worse, or will drive him to the ER in record time. 

His dad lets Stiles leave to check on his friends, and stays to handle his deputies. 

Stiles doesn’t make it to his car without a firm reminder that his father expects a full explanation tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at my [Main Blog](http://tamzstripped.tumblr.com/) or [Sterek Corner!](http://littleredsterek.tumblr.com/)
> 
> See you guys tomorrow! 
> 
> Leave me a note in the comments, maybe?


	6. I'll burn out and slip away.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fire wasn't just a fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the sixth day of Christmas I gave to my boo! Six poisoned wolves.
> 
> I'm a terrible person. 
> 
> This chapter title comes from [Masterpiece Theatre II](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2ilLmiUstc) by Marianas Trench.

Peter maintained communication with Lydia by text while the Alphas pursued Derek. He managed to keep up the guise of wanting to prove his loyalty, and that he was keeping an eye out for the pack. 

Deucalion remained none the wiser as Peter warned the Hale pack where the Alphas were heading, or when they were growing impatient. He told Lydia that the Alpha pack wouldn’t hold out much longer, and would start killing the pack one by one if Derek didn’t join them soon. 

It was just enough to keep them focused on the Alphas, and off the scent of his own deception.

* * *

* * *

 

With heavy eyes, and lead limbs, Derek lifts himself into one of the cots that Chris brought over for the pack. Derek barely contains the sound of his struggle, and listens to his beta’s bodies protest against their own movements. He hears Stiles and Allison grunt with the strain of helping the others, and reassure them with sure words.

“Rest, it’s all going to be okay.” Stiles tells Isaac, and Derek hears a wet towel strain into a bucket of ice water.

Allison follows with her own promises. “We will figure this out, just breathe.”

“Allison,” Chris says quietly, worry seeping into his voice. “We should go back to the house and see if we can figure out what started the fire, maybe we can determine what strain of wolfsbane was used.”

“Yeah, okay.” Allison responds, standing and brushing something off her hands. “Will you be okay, Stiles?”

Derek can hear Stiles chewing the flesh inside his mouth, trying hard not to say something to start a panic among his wolves. 

“Go, it’s okay,” Stiles confirms. “Lydia and I can stay and go through my things and try to figure out if there is another way to help them.” 

Derek listens to the soft whisper of Stiles running his hand over his hair and letting it fall where it wants. Next he hears Lydia’s bare feet pad down the stairs a little heavier than normal, meaning she’s carrying quite a bit from their room upstairs.

“I grabbed everything I could.” She says, dropping items onto a hard surface.

Stiles walks to meet her, “Thank you.”

Derek tries to listen in as they discuss their options, but he passes out before he can understand anything.

* * *

 

Derek wakes up to a cup pressed to his lips. 

“Hey, drink some of this.” Stiles asks softly, his hand cradling the back of Derek’s head.

Derek tries to open his eyes, but everything is blurry. He tries to talk but his throat cracks, so he gives up and just lets Stiles tilt the glass so water trickles into his mouth.

Stiles scratches Derek’s scalp. “Don’t strain yourself. I know you’re worried, and want to know what’s going on.” Stiles settles next to him, drags a cold cloth over his eyes, and wipes the sweat from his skin. “Peter somehow poisoned you all with wolfsbane. Your burns healed almost immediately, but you are all showing symptoms of inhaling the toxin. Chris and Allison are at my dad’s, trying to figure out what kind it was so we can give you guys the antidote.”

Derek feels his stomach flip suddenly and surges toward Stiles where a bucket was left for this reason. 

Stiles grabs the bucket and pets Derek’s head as he empties his stomach again of what he can only describe as tar. “You’re going to be okay.” Stiles soothes, still stroking Derek. Stiles wipes his mouth when he lies back.

“The others?” Derek croaks, needing to know if his betas are as bad as he is.

Stiles drags the rag down his neck and under his collar. “They’re okay. They aren’t as sick as you. That’s why we think it was somehow distributed by the fire and smoke. You were in there the longest, and you are suffering the worst.”

“Good,” Derek coughs up more fluid, and Stiles is quick to rid him of the mess.

“Just stay with me, okay? We’ve been through worse.” Stiles’ voice shakes.

Derek wishes he could share the same optimism as Stiles, but he’s been poisoned before, and it was never even half this bad. Unless they find a cure in the next hour, Derek is sure his body will shut down for good, because he can already feel certain organs quitting on him.

Stiles forces a laugh, “I mean come on, you aren’t demanding I cut off any limbs this time, so that has to be a good sign, right?”

Derek lifts a hand to lay over Stiles’ where it rests on his chest. There’s so much Derek wants to say right now, but literally can’t. He tries to open his eyes to look at Stiles one last time, and all he sees is a fuzzy outline of dark hair around pale skin. He’s dying and he can’t even tell Stiles how little time they have left together.

“Stiles!” Lydia calls, louder than they have spoken all day. 

Stiles kisses Derek’s forehead and moves toward Lydia’s voice.

“Deaton just called, Erica’s getting worse. We need to figure something out.” 

Stiles contains a groan of frustration as best he can, and whispers angrily. “I don’t know what else to do, Lydia. I’ve tried every herb, crystal, and candle combination I know, and some new ones. Nothing is helping! I’m banking on Chris and Allison right now, because I’m useless.”

“Don’t yell at me,” Lydia responds harshly. “There has to be something we are missing. Have you emailed Wiki? Does she know how to help?”

“Yes, I emailed her this morning when we realized they were poisoned and asked her to call me.”

“Why didn’t you  _ call  _ her?” Lydia asks, like Stiles is the biggest idiot she knows, while she helps Scott empty his own stomach.

Derek listens to the fabric of Stiles’ shirt sleeves slide roughly together, and Derek imagines Stiles crossing his arms like a petulant child. 

“Because I don’t have her  _ number _ , Lydia,” Stiles says firmly, “I’ve been protecting the pack by limiting how much I tell her, but I sent her my number because this is an emergency and we need help.”

“Okay-” Lydia starts to respond, but is cut off by Boyd.

Derek listens to the springs on the cot creak with movement.

“I need-” Boyd coughs, and Derek hears a bang against the television as if Boyd lost his balance. “I need to… Erica. Where’s Erica?”

Lydia and Stiles rush over to him, and Stiles speaks, “Boyd, we need you to lie back down.” 

Boyd argues, and Derek knows that if his senses weren’t dulled he would be able to smell the misery rolling off the father-to-be.

“Boyd,” Stiles cuts him off with a stern voice. 

Boyd immediately shuts his mouth, but a low groan still slips free. 

“Look at me. There you go.” Stiles pats his shoulder. “Deaton and Melissa are at the clinic taking care of her, she is going to be okay. They won’t let anything happen to her.”

“But-” Boyd begs. 

“You aren’t any good for her until we get you healed too, okay? Trust me, and lie still. Let us help you.” Stiles pauses, and Derek hears the cot squeak again as Boyd settles back down. “There you go, thank you. We are going to help you, and Erica, and everyone else. We just need you all to rest, okay?”

Derek hears Isaac whimper from the cot next to him, and he wishes he could reach his arm out to reassure him. 

“Stiles?” Scott groans. 

“Yeah, buddy? Need water?” Stiles asks in a hurry, already filling a glass.

“No.” Scott sits up, ignoring his stubborn muscles. “You should be at the clinic too… the baby…”

“Scott, shut up and lie down,” Stiles snaps. “I’m not leaving and that’s final, not until I figure out how to help you guys. I can call Deaton as soon as I know what works and he will take care of Erica.” Stiles lifts Scott’s legs and drops them back onto the cot. “Now rest. Stop wasting energy.”

Scott does as he’s told and soon Derek hears him fall back asleep, his heart rate matching Jackson’s who’s been sleeping for hours. Derek has no concept of how much time has passed, it feels like he’s been suffering for days, but it might only be midday for all he knows.

Derek listens to Stiles work, comfort, and order his pack around and wants to thank Stiles for taking care of his pack. He wants to tell Stiles that this is  _ his  _ pack, that he’s more their alpha than Derek is. He wants to tell Stiles to protect his betas at all costs, even if that means letting him go.

Stiles must pick up on the fact that Derek is giving in to the darkness, because a strong hand meets his left cheek in a hard slap.

Derek blinks awake. 

“Derek! Derek, are you with me? Come back to me…” Stiles cups his face, his thumbs tracing Derek’s eyelashes that are flickering open.

Derek does his best to look at Stiles, because he can’t do much else. He hears all four of his betas whimpering and whispering around him, voices strained.

“Oh, thank  _ God _ .” Stiles kisses his forehead. “Don’t you dare do that to me again, you hear me?” 

Derek doesn’t know what he did, “Do?” 

Stiles pulls him to his chest, and scrubs a hand across his back. “Just stay with me, okay? You’re not allowed to leave us, we need you.”

Derek wishes he knew what happened so he could try not to do it again, but from the sound of it, he really doesn’t have any control. There’s a knock at the door, and Lydia goes to answer it while Stiles clings to Derek and rocks him. 

The Sheriff greets her. “Evening, Lydia. Is Stiles around? He was supposed to come over to talk, but he never showed.” 

Lydia shifts, and the door creaks closed slightly, “Stiles is actually tied up right now, can he come find you tomorrow?”

“Excuse me,” John says, before pushing his way inside. “Stiles, I know you’re here, stop avoiding-”

Derek knows that John can now see the five of them lined up in cots, with buckets of black tar, and stained towels all around, lord knows what else.

“Dad,” Stiles groans, carefully lying Derek back down and standing up. “I need you to go. It’s not a good time.”

“Not a  _ good time _ , Stiles?” His dad asks in disbelief. “What the  _ hell  _ is going on here?”

“I’ll explain later! I don’t have time right now.” Stiles throws open a book on a table and starts scribbling down a new combination of items that might slow the poison. 

“Stiles, these boys need a  _ hospital _ .” 

Derek hears the keypad of a cell phone.

“Stop!” Stiles yells running across the room and knocking what Derek assumes to be the cell phone out of his dad’s hand. “A hospital can’t help them. Only  _ I _ can. Now, just  _ go _ !”

“I’m not leaving until you give me some  _ answers _ ,” His dad argues.

“I don’t have time!” Stiles yells, “They are  _ dying _ , dad, and I can’t figure out how to save them!”

“Dying?” His dad asks, only now realizing the severity of the situation.

“Yes!” Stiles yells going back to where he was earlier with his books. “They’ve been poisoned by wolfsbane.”

“Wolfsbane?”

“God, I really don’t have time to explain this to you, dad,” Stiles groans, flipping a page. “I’m sorry, I had every intention of explaining, but I didn’t expect my pack to be poisoned today, okay?”

“Your pack?”

“Sheriff?” Lydia intervenes. “If you want to come to the kitchen I can try to clear a few things up for you.”

“No!” He shouts. “I want my  _ son  _ to tell me what’s going on for once!”

Derek feels it this time; his limbs tighten, and his muscles tense and twitch as a seizure grips him. 

Stiles confirms that this is what happened earlier. “Not again! Derek!” 

Derek barely feels two hands touch him before he loses consciousness. He’s woken with another slap, but he barely feels this one.

“There you are,” Stiles breathes, voice thick. “Lydia, we’re running out of time. Call Allison, see if they found anything at the house yet.”

Derek presses into Stiles’ cool hands. If Stiles’ hands feel like ice, then he must be burning up. 

“Stiles, talk to me. Give it to me simple,” the Sheriff says from a few feet away, and Derek thinks he might be holding his legs. John seems to have calmed, so something must have happened to make him realize that his needs weren’t at the top of Stiles’ list of priorities.

Stiles slips onto the cot, and rests Derek against his lap, scrubbing a rag across his face, and neck, and finally takes a minute to try and explain things to his dad. “Okay, promise not to interrupt with questions? I need you to save all questions until they are okay.”

“I’ll try,” his dad breathes.

“ _ Promise _ ,” Stiles demands. 

Stiles’ dad must nod because Stiles starts his fast explanation.

“Werewolves are real, and this is my pack. Peter turned Scott against his will freshman year when you caught me in the woods looking for Laura’s body. Isaac, Boyd, Erica, and Jackson are all Beta’s too, and Derek is our Alpha.” Stiles pauses to let this filter through his dad’s mind. “Last night, Peter set fire to your house, and somehow poisoned them with wolfsbane. We can only cure them if we know what kind of wolfsbane it is, and we have no idea.”

“Then how are  _ you  _ supposed to help them?” His dad asks.

“You know how you told me last year that mom used to talk about being from a long line of Emissaries?” Stiles pauses, “She wasn’t lying.”

“What? Stiles, you’re not making any sense.”

“Dad, you promised not to ask questions. Mom was an Emissary, she could do magic. I’m an Emissary, and  _ I _ can do magic. If we can’t figure out the strain of wolfsbane, then I am their last chance at survival. But I can’t figure it out.”

“Have you hit your head? There’s no such thing as magic! These boys need  _ medical attention _ !” His dad shouts in a panic, thinking his son has officially fallen off his rocker. 

“Dad!” Stiles shouts, “No! Please  _ trust me  _ just this once!” 

Derek’s heart breaks, knowing how Stiles has always felt like a fuck up, and like he’s always been a burden to his father. Derek wishes he could help explain everything to the sheriff, and take some of the heat off Stiles. He needs to be there for his mate.

“No, Stiles!” His dad shouts, and is cut off by Stiles’ phone ringing.

Stiles answers quickly, his fingers tight in Derek’s hair where his head rests on his lap. “This is Stiles.”

Derek knows his hearing is going because he can’t even hear a mumble of a voice coming through the phone.

“Wiki!” Stiles shouts. “Oh, thank God!” Stiles taps his leg, anxiety getting the best of him. “Okay, I know you don’t know a lot about me, but my pack has been poisoned by wolfsbane and I can’t figure out what kind so I don’t know the antidote. Is there something I can do to cure them?”

The pessimist inside of Derek screams for him to smash the phone before Stiles can give away any more of his weakness. The last thing they need is another pack claiming their territory while Derek and his pack lie dying.

“Are you sure? That’s all?” Stiles asks in disbelief. “You mean I’ve been sitting here fucking around, while they suffer when I could have just-” Stiles pauses to listen. “Angelica? Yes, I think I have some, here I’m going to put you on speaker while I look.”

Stiles runs to his herbs and starts digging. “Angelica! Got it!”

“Okay,” Wiki instructs in a small voice that is nothing like what Derek imagined when Stiles told him he met another Emissary. “Now mix it with the others I told you, and make a tea. You need to drink it before you start, because it will protect you. Aconite is poisonous to humans too, and after you take it from them, you are putting yourself at risk of being poisoned. The tea will strengthen your magic so it can fight it off.”

“Okay, okay.” Stiles chants, knocking more things over than collecting them.

Lydia returns to the room; Derek didn’t even know she left. “Here, I had water still boiling from earlier.”

Stiles sprinkles the herbs as instructed, and swallows it down quickly. “Ah, hot. Ow!” Stiles hisses with a rough throat, followed by a harsh cough. 

“ _ Stiles _ ,” Wiki tests. “Did you just drink  _ boiling water _ ?”

“It wasn’t  _ still  _ boiling…” Stiles defends, voice sounding like ground beef.

Wiki sighs, “It’s a good thing you can heal,  _ stupid _ .” 

“What is going on?” The Sheriff complains from across the room, probably standing around and wondering when he will wake from this dream.

Wiki continues, “Okay, now put your hands on their chest… you said it was by inhalation right?”

“Yeah,” Stiles confirms, straddling Derek. 

“Right, so the poison is focussed in their lungs and filtering through their bloodstream from there. You need to pull it out there. Skin to skin.”

Stiles rips Derek’s shirt open. 

Derek grabs his wrist, “No,” he strains. “Them first.” 

“Shut up, Derek. You’ve almost died twice in the last hour.” Stiles argues. “Wiki, how do I do this?”

Derek couldn’t push him away if he tried, his body weak, and unable to truly feel anything at the moment.

“Focus on where your palms meet their flesh. Picture the poison, imagine it flowing into you. You are a magnet, pull it out.” 

Stiles groans. “Are there no magic words that I can say? I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“No, Stiles. We’ve been over this. We don’t use spoken magic. Now focus and leach the poison out of them,” she demands with a confident, smooth voice.

Stiles sits there for a minute, and Derek doesn’t feel like anything is happening.

Stiles’ dad must think the same thing because he yells over the room, “That’s  _ enough  _ Stiles, I’m calling for an ambulance.”

“No!” Stiles shouts, “I can do this!  _ Just fucking trust me _ !” 

Derek’s whole body contracts at the shock to his sternum. He assumes Stiles’ frustration has manifested as sparks in his fingers, but then Stiles, Lydia, and the Sheriff go silent, and Derek’s entire body feels as though it has been ignited.

* * *

 

When Derek wakes again, his limbs are light and he’s no longer overwhelmed by nausea. Aside from feeling like he could sleep for a decade, he’s feels it safe to say he’s  _ okay _ . He opens his eyes and everything is clear. When he looks around he sees Lydia helping Jackson to sit up, and Boyd working to stand up. 

Stiles is sitting between Scott and Isaac with one hand on each of their chests. His eyes are closed, and Derek watches Stiles’ hands spark. Black puffs of smoke instantly seep from the skin of his betas. The smoke swirls in small circles, before twisting with Stiles’ spark, and disappearing back into his hands and up his arms. 

Derek watches in fascination and realizes that this must be what it feels like for humans to watch wolves take pain, only Stiles is literally absorbing the poison that threatened his pack’s lives. 

Stiles must have taken the last of it, because the sparks flare, and the two betas convulse, shift, and roar, before collapsing loosely against the cots.

Stiles tries to stand, but topples to one side as he rises. Derek moves towards him, but loses balance himself and finds himself holding onto the wall, unable to help

John rushes over to support his son, “I think you need some rest.”

Wiki is apparently still on the phone, talking to Lydia now. “Lydia, do you know how to identify his herbs?”

“Yes, I’ve been working with him closely the last few months,” she answers, running to the table which is covered in herbs and mysterious jars. 

“Good, I’ve just emailed Stiles instructions for a number of things he’s going to need to do to recover over the next few days. I didn’t realize so many of his pack were poisoned, or I would have warned him. Taking in so much aconite is going to drain him and smother his magic. He’s going to need some time to heal, can you help him?”

“Yes,” Lydia confirms, and leaves the room to prepare.

“I have to get to Erica,” Stiles says, his eyelids heavy. “Take me to Erica. She’s at the clinic.”

John looks over to Derek who’s now standing, “I thought he said you all couldn’t go to the hospital.”

Derek nods, and attempts to answer. His voice comes out rough at first, but returns to normal by the end of his answer. “He means Deaton’s clinic, Erica is there.”

“Oh,” John answers, face pale. “Glad to see you’re awake again, son.”

Derek nods and heads toward the door, and throws on one of Stiles’ jackets, and zips it up. “I’d like to come with you.”

“Of course,” John responds, already helping a half unconscious Stiles out to his squad car.

Derek settles into the back with Stiles, wanting to offer him the comfort that Stiles has been giving to the pack all day. Derek looks at the clock on the dash to see that it’s almost eight. Through the  car window, Derek can see the sun setting, not rising. 

Boyd falls into the front seat, still not back to health but determined to be by Erica’s side.

Stiles has been trying to find a cure for almost seventeen hours, because they realized they were sick just before midnight, getting worse around two; the last time Derek could read the numbers on a clock was a little after three.

“Dad,” Stiles mumbles, trying to rub his eyes awake. “You need to use your siren and hit the accelerator. Erica isn’t going to last much longer, and neither will the baby.”

His dad instantly flips on the siren, and Derek holds Stiles tight as they race to the clinic in record time.

Derek and John help Stiles in, and they are led to the back by Deaton quickly.

Melissa is standing by Erica’s side, taking her vitals when John sees her.

“What are you- you  _ knew  _ about all this?” John asks in disbelief.

Melissa looks to Derek for help, but Derek can’t offer any. He’s focused on helping Stiles get to Erica. 

Stiles stands with one hand on Erica's chest, and the other on her stomach. 

Derek looks at how pale she is, sinister webs of poison weaving themselves across her skin. 

Stiles’ fingers spark weakly, and Derek places a strong hand over the small of his back, offering support. 

“You can do this,” Derek tells him.

Stiles nods and closes his eyes. A moment later his hands flare to life, and Derek watches the smoke gather over Erica’s skin, and disappear into Stiles’ hands like it did back at the house.

By the time she wakes up, Stiles is passed out in Derek’s arms. Still weak, Derek barely manages to carry Stiles back to the cruiser.

Melissa stays to make sure that Erica and the baby are okay. 

Boyd has pulled up a chair, and is dozing off against the edge of the exam table that Erica is lying on.

Derek promises himself that they will be okay. He needs to be with Stiles.

When they get back to the house, John follows Derek upstairs to their room where Derek lays Stiles down in their bed. 

Stiles wakes up and finally looks at Derek. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” Derek smiles back. “You did it. You saved us. We’re all going to be okay.”

Stiles smiles, his eyes falling closed. 

Lydia comes in with a pitcher of tea. “He needs to drink all of this,” she tells Derek. 

Derek nods. “Thank you for helping us today.”

“Of course,” she nods. “This is my pack too.”

Derek pours a glass for Stiles and gets him to sit up and drink before he passes out. “I know you want to sleep but-”

“I gotta drink this. I know,” Stiles groans. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

Derek nods, and Stiles drinks the mixture greedily. After Stiles is done, Derek gently maneuvers him to lie flat and covers him. 

“Derek, can I speak to you in private?” John asks from the doorway where he’s been watching silently.

Derek looks at Lydia. 

“I’ll stay with him, and come get you if anything changes.” She promises

Derek nods and stands to follow John into the hallway.

“So, werewolves.” John grunts, crossing his arms.

Derek tips his head. “Yes, sir.”

“Emissaries?”

Derek nods again.

“How long?”

“My whole life.” Derek answers, not sure what John is asking. “I was born a wolf.”

“And Scott?” 

“Peter turned Scott his freshman year.”

“And Stiles couldn’t resist getting involved,” John sighs, pinching his nose.

Derek nods his head. “I know the last thing you want is for your son to be tied up in this…”

“But there’s no changing his mind.” John huffs. 

“Right.”

They stand in silence a moment, reflecting on the day.

“I wanted to tell you sir, but Stiles thought you would be safer not knowing.” Derek tries.

John looks toward the bedroom door. “He needs to learn that I am the parent, and it’s my job to take care of him.”

Derek doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t know what he can say to make him feel better.

“I guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it.”

Scott calls for Derek downstairs but before he walks away, John speaks up.

“Can I trust you to protect him?” 

Derek stops and turns back toward John. “With my life.”

This seems to be the right answer because he nods and returns to the bedroom to stay with his son.

Downstairs, Scott, Isaac, and Jackson are working on clearing the living room.

“Is he going to be okay?” Scott asks, looking toward the stairs. “I wanted to come check on him, but I don’t want to get in the way.”

Derek places a reassuring hand on Scott’s shoulder. “He’s going to be fine. He just needs to rest. Now let’s get this place cleaned up, and get some rest. If Stiles wakes up and we are anything but our normal selves, he’s going to push himself to exhaustion until we are.”

Jackson scoffs. “Idiot.”

Derek corners him. “That  _ idiot _ just saved your life.”

Jackson recoils. “I know - I - I was -”

Derek flashes his eyes, “You were nothing. Stop treating Stiles like you’re still in high school, grow up. He’s done more for this pack than any of us combined. Show some respect.”

“It’s not-”

“He could‘ve  _ killed himself  _ saving us today.”

Jackson drops his head. “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

Derek gets lightheaded and steps away, accepting Jackson’s apology. 

Just as they finish straightening up, Allison and Chris finally show up.

They apologize for not getting back sooner, and tell them that they lost track of time, and didn’t find anything. Derek wants to reprimand them for not keeping Stiles updated, but if he’s being honest, he doesn’t have the energy to fight. 

He fills them in on how Stiles was able to save everyone, and when John comes downstairs to busy his hands until his son wakes up, he realizes that Chris was in on this too. 

Derek leaves them in the living room while Chris and Allison explain how their business is a front, and that they are actually hunters. He goes to the kitchen to make a plate of food for Stiles in case he wakes up, and then makes a dozen sandwiches for his pack guessing they will be as hungry as  he is.

Derek calls Deaton for an update to find that Erica, Boyd, and the baby have made a full recovery, and Melissa wants to keep her overnight for observation. Derek tells the group the good news, and everyone breathes a shared sigh of relief.

Derek can’t relax because Stiles isn’t awake yet, and he needs Stiles to be  _ okay _ .

He relieves Lydia and settles into bed next to him. Stiles’ phone rings, and Derek answers it before it can disturb Stiles’ sleep.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Wiki, is Stiles around?” It’s the same voice Derek heard over the receiver earlier.

Derek clears his throat. “He’s resting.”

“Is he drinking the tea?”

Derek looks over to the pitcher to see half of it gone. “It’s looks like he’s had half of the brew, do I need to wake him up and get him to drink more?”

She thinks a moment, “Are you a wolf?”

Derek feels his wolf bristle. “Yes.”

“Are you able to stay with him?”

“Yes.” Derek furrows his brows at the odd question, looking over at Stiles limp form. Has Stiles not told her  _ anything _ ? 

“Sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable, but Stiles has been very careful not to tell me any personal details, and I don’t want to put him in danger by revealing something that can be used against him. Is Lydia around? I can talk to her?” Wiki asks, her voice timid and nervous.

Derek decides that she’s most likely not an actual threat. “No, that’s okay. I’m his alpha.”

“Oh!” She gasps. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Derek reassures her. “What can I do to help him?”

“More than anyone else actually, unless his girlfriend is a wolf too, but an alpha will work just as well.” She rambles.

Derek shifts, wanting to state his claim over Stiles, but knows that would be divulging too much information and remains silent.

“Stay with him. Keep contact with his skin. His magic is exhausted and needs recharging. He can sleep it off, the tea will help, and if he wakes up he needs to eat fresh foods, preferably organic. In a few days he should be back to normal. But since you’re an alpha, if you keep contact with him, his magic will recharge faster with your magic so close.”

Derek nods, thankful that he can do something. “I can do that.”

“Okay, good,” she says. “When he wakes up, can you have him or someone call me? I’m not worried, but I’ll feel better once I know he’s okay.”

“Me too,” Derek admits. “I’ll make sure we let you know.”

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

Derek stops her before she hangs up. “Thank you for helping him today. If you hadn’t, we might have…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I could help.”

Derek expects her to use this as an opportunity to try and convince him that she’s an ally and can be trusted, but she only tells him to get rest and lets him go.

Derek puts the phone down, and pushes her out of his mind. His priority is nursing Stiles back to health. 

He stretches himself along Stiles and wraps him in his arms, his skin cool to the touch. 

Stiles whimpers, but presses closer to Derek as if he knows it’s him.

“I’m here, Stiles. Sleep, I’m not going anywhere.” Derek promises, holding him close.

Stiles falls back asleep quickly, and Derek watches the color return to his face over the next hour and thinks about everything that has happened. 

Derek promises himself that this is the last time Peter will ever threaten his pack. The next time he sees him he  _ will  _ kill Peter. If Peter finds a way to come back from the grave again, Derek will kill him once more. Peter will never get another chance to hurt his pack ever again.

Ever since they discovered that Stiles has an Emissary’s powers, Derek has been struggling with his own contribution to the pack. When Stiles has such powerful magic, what role does Derek play? As an Alpha, he is nothing special, barely able to control his shift. He’s hardly Stiles’ equal. He’s just muscle, but killing his uncle is something he feels  _ very  _ qualified to do.

Killing Peter may keep Derek from ever gaining his full wolf shift, but it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to all of you who read WIP's! You da true MVP's. 
> 
> I've been struggling with myself over the quality of my writing because of how little attention this has been getting. I've been consumed by this project since November 1st, and I'm still hammering out the last chapter because I want it to be perfect. The fact that (not including my own responses to comments) I only have about 12 comments, has really disheartened me. It makes me question why I do this, why go through all the stress for no pay? You know? It's come to my attention that a lot of readers wait until things are finished, and I can't help but feel this is why a lot of fics go unfinished. I know that's happened to me in the past. 
> 
> SO MY POINT IS! All of you who read WIP's DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH OF A FUCKING DIFFERENCE YOU MAKE IN FANDOM! 
> 
> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! *blows a thousand kisses*
> 
> (P.s. I wrote this from a sensory point of view... let me know if I did it justice in the comments?)


	7. I just need a minute.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles recovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the seventh day of Christmas I gave to my boo! Seven (hundred) naps.
> 
> This chapter title comes from [Sing Sing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xG37G0K_F0) by Marianas Trench.

When Lydia approached Peter with the ritual that would lure the Alphas into a trap, Peter argued that the Alphas would need proof that the shift was  _ actually  _ possible. He knew he could  _ convince  _ the Alphas himself, but something told him this wasn’t a complete ruse...

He had memories of Claudia assisting with pack needs when they needed an Emissary. He’d kept an eye on Stiles in case he shared his mother’s gift for years, and he’d never been sure. 

If Stiles  _ was  _ an Emissary, that could change  _ everything _ . 

Peter convinced Lydia that the best way to convince the Alphas that the ritual could work was to force the information out of Deaton. She remained hesitant at first, but eventually she understood that if the Alphas believed it to be too easy to get the information, they would sense a trap.

Deaton agreed to play his part in the interrogation, and Peter tagged along with Alphas to the ‘meeting’.

Peter felt he knew Deaton well enough to detect his lies, or more accurately, when he covered a lie a little too well with a steady heart beat. He assisted the Alphas as they tortured the information out of Deaton. If he got a little pleasure out of drawing blood from the man who was supposed to protect his family, no one was the wiser.

After torturing Deaton, Peter was 98% sure that Stiles did in fact inherit his mother’s magic. Which meant that the ritual could work, if it was in fact a  _ real  _ ritual. 

Peter set out to do his own research while the Alphas met with Stiles to make the deal. He couldn’t find solid information through his usual channels, only  _ speculation _ . Thinking back on Deaton’s interrogation, he realizes that a lot of the half truths he detected were because the ritual  _ wasn’t  _ bullshit. 

Peter knew Stiles would make sure that if something were to go wrong, the Alphas would never  _ actually  _ gain power. There’s something to the plan that will void the whole ritual. Peter just has to figure out what the  _ actual  _ ritual is.

* * *

* * *

 

Stiles gasps awake after another nightmare in a long string of nightmares that all end the same way. One or all of the members of his pack dies and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. This one ended with Derek seizing on the cot and not waking up like he had the day before. Stiles feels Derek shift next to him, and coil his arms tighter around him.

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay. Go back to sleep.” Derek whispers with soft lips against his temple.

Stiles uses the little energy he has to roll into him. “Can’t sleep. Nightmares,” he murmurs.

Derek adjusts to hold him better. “I’m sorry. It’s okay, but you need rest.” Derek reaches behind him to pick up a glass of tea that Stiles has been trying to finish, and holds the straw to Stiles’ lips.

Stiles drinks as much as he can, before he has to gasp for air, and lets his head fall back to the pillow. “What if Wiki didn’t call? You all could have died.”

“Shh,” Derek whispers, his breath tickling his scalp. “She called, we’re okay.”

“Where’s my phone? I should see if she emailed. I should let her know I’m okay.” Stiles groans, craning to look for his phone, feeling as though his limbs weigh a metric ton.

Derek rubs his shoulder. “I’ve checked, and I talked to her earlier. There isn’t anything you need to worry about, let me take care of you.”

“You talked to her? What did she say?” Stiles asks, letting himself drop and trust Derek to take care of him. “How long until I can move again?”

“When you absorbed the wolfsbane, you poisoned yourself.” Derek starts.

“What?” Stiles gasps, “Am I going to die?”

“No,” Derek promises. “Your magic is fighting off and neutralizing the poison, the tea is aiding your recovery, and helping you build your energy. Without the tea, you would fall into a coma, but you wouldn’t die. You’re going to be okay.”

Stiles squeezes his eyes closed, hating the thought of saving his pack, and in turn eliminating himself from their line of defense. What if Peter knew this would happen, and planned to attack while Stiles was in recovery?

Derek brushes the loose hair from Stiles’ face. “She said that your magic can also recharge by drawing from mine. That skin to skin contact helps.”

“Is that why you won’t leave me?” Stiles asks, feeling sleep pull him back under. He feels like he could sleep for eternity, and this is the first time he’s been able to keep his eyes open for longer than a few minutes. The lack of light from the window above the bed tells Stiles that he’s slept through the day, because he recalls sunlight from one or two of his brief moments of consciousness.

“Even if I wasn’t helping, I would still be here. There is nothing else more important to me than getting you better.” Derek confirms quietly.

Stiles starts to doze back off, and jerks awake when he slips back into one of his earlier nightmares. 

Derek, whispers his promises of safety again, and tells him to sleep. 

Stiles reaches for his tea, wanting to heal faster so he can stop falling into nightmares. Stiles lets his back fall back against the mattress after he’s finished the glass, and smiles lazily over at Derek. 

Derek’s chest is bare, and glowing in the moonlight through the window, and Stiles finds himself salivating.

“You know…” Stiles starts, tracing a loose finger down Derek’s sternum. “I know how we can get some more skin to skin contact.”

“Oh yeah?” Derek asks, slipping his hand into Stiles’ where it traces Derek’s skin. 

“Mhmm.” Stiles smiles, letting his pinky flick over a nipple. “And I read somewhere that when you’re intimate your heart chakras line up, which is why you should be careful who you sleep with or something...” Stiles muses, feeling his skin warm at the thought of Derek’s lips stretched around his cock. “In  _ our  _ case maybe it'll give my magic a jump start.”

Derek pulls Stiles’ hand away from his nipple. “You need rest, you don’t have the energy.”

“Lucky for me,” Stiles winks, “You can do all the work.”

“Maybe, but you need sleep, Stiles.” Derek says again, trying to pull Stiles against him so Stiles will accept defeat and go back to sleep.

Now with a semi, and an itch deep in his gut left unsatisfied, Stiles grows irritated. He’s damn near killed himself to save the pack, and Derek won’t suck his dick. What the  _ actual  _ fuck? Stiles tells himself that he’s being ridiculous, that it’s not that serious, that Derek  _ really  _ thinks he’s helping Stiles, but Stiles can’t help feeling like his fight will never be over and his only reprieve is sex with Derek. Lots of sex with Derek. Because sex with Derek is awesome.

Stiles reaches between them to locate Derek’s dick, in attempt to work him up too, so he can get what he wants. “Come on, you know you want me, too.”

Derek fights to hold Stiles’ hand back, but doesn’t push it away entirely. “Stiles, you need rest.”

Stiles leans forward and takes a nipple into his mouth, because he can’t lift high enough to latch onto Derek’s ear lobe. “Come on,” Stiles breathes against the wet nipple. “You know you’ll like it. Me all pliant and willing to take whatever you give me.” 

Derek pushes him away, “Stiles, you need rest.”

Stiles feels a small spark at his fingers with another rejection from the one person he trusts to take care of him. “Fine.” Stiles rolls over, putting his back to Derek. “Don’t suck my dick. Whatever.”

“Stiles.” Derek protests, pressing himself to Stiles’ back.

“Fuck you, Derek,” Stiles spits, frustrated that he can’t fight harder, that he’s already falling back  to sleep where nightmares are waiting. He feels vulnerable while he wait for his magic to recharge and to recover from the poison. Having Derek fuck him would be a wonderful distraction from his nightmares and current predicament.

When Derek rolls away from him and Stiles feels him get out of bed, it’s like something breaks within him. He needs Derek close, he can’t face this alone, but he’s too tired to apologize and beg Derek to come back. He closes his eyes and decides a nightmare would be better than the thought of Derek leaving him to fight alone.

Stiles is just dozing off when he feels the mattress dip, and the blanket around his waist lift. He’s surprised when the weight settles over his waist, and warm hands twist his hips until he’s lying flat on his back. Stiles barely lifts his head to see the outline of Derek between his legs under the comforter. Fingers pull at his underwear, and Stiles realizes what’s happening. “What are you doing?” He exclaims louder than he has since before he passed out for the first time.

Derek places a heavy hand on Stiles’ abdomen, and Stiles can feel hot breath fan over his now throbbing cock. “What you  _ want  _ me to do,” Derek explains.

Stiles bites his lip, anger bleeding from him in less than a second. “Hey, no.” Stiles tries to lift the blanket. 

“What?” Derek asks, voice tight. “You wanted me to suck your dick, so I am.”

“I was just mad,” Stiles tells him, still pulling at the blanket. “Come here.” Stiles tries for apologetic.

Derek lifts the blanket to see him, his face void of emotion.

“Come here, Stiles says again. “I was just sulking and weak, and I’m  _ sorry _ .”

Derek looks to the side, and Stiles knows he should have chosen his words better.

“Come here,” Stiles demands, unable to explain himself better because he’s so tired. “As great as your mouth is, I don’t want it  _ just  _ on my dick. Please come here, I’m  _ sorry _ .” Panic seeps into his voice at the realization that he may have really hurt Derek. “Derek, I need you.” 

Derek finally crawls over him. 

The second Derek’s face is within reach, Stiles pulls him down, and kisses him with every bit of energy he has. “I’m so sorry.” Stiles chokes. He doesn’t know what’s going on with him, but he shouldn’t have guilted Derek into sex. That isn’t them.

Derek seems to accept his apology and finally kisses him back, holding himself up over Stiles. 

They make out for what feels like hours for Stiles, but is probably only fifteen minutes or less. Stiles arms grow tired from clinging to Derek, and tracing all the warm planes of his skin, and sag to the mattress beside him, only his fingers clinging to Derek’s hips.

Derek pulls back and traces a line of kisses down his neck. “I’m sorry if you thought I didn’t want to,” Derek whispers. “I always want to.”

Stiles smirks, eyes heavy. He finally closes his eyes, and lets himself go limp as he focusses on the butterfly brushes of Derek’s lips across his skin.

“I’m afraid that I would make you weaker, I don’t want to drain the little energy you have,” Derek explains.

Stiles nods, unable to form words anymore.

Derek makes his way back to Stiles’ mouth and runs his hands down Stiles’ arms until they lace with Stiles’ fingers. Derek lifts his hands and places Stiles’ hands above his head in one hand, and pushes Stiles’ face to the side with his own jaw, so he can latch onto Stiles’ ear.

Stiles chokes on a sob, his gut electrifying with need.

Derek uses his knees to spread Stiles’ legs further apart, and lines his cock up alongside Stiles’.

One second of contact and Stiles is already panting.

Derek starts a slow rhythm and sucks hickeys into every inch of Stiles’ skin. He keeps this up for awhile, igniting every nerve in Stiles’ body. 

Stiles lies pliant below Derek, his arms pinned above him, his legs spread wide, his neck tilted up and away. Stiles trusts Derek to give him what he needs.

Derek slows his movements and finds Stiles’ lips again to shove his tongue inside, and swallow down Stiles’ cries. “Are you okay?” Derek asks, voice rough.

All Stiles can do is nod. 

Derek stops moving, and releases one of Stiles’ hands to come down and brush the hair from Stiles’ face. 

“I’m fine.” Stiles promises, in a barely there whisper. “Y’r perfect. I love you.” Stiles forces his mouth to say.

Derek swallows the words, and bites a hard kiss into Stiles lips, before sliding down the mattress to rest over Stiles’ dick again.

Stiles feels a shiver run through his body as the cool air hits the sweat that gathered between their heated chests.

Derek wastes no time in taking Stiles into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Fuck,” Stiles breathes. His own ears can’t hear it, but he knows Derek can.

Derek finds a quick pace, and Stiles is sure that Derek is actually trying to suck his brain out through his dick.

Stiles can’t even lift his arms to thread in Derek’s hair, they can only clench at the sheets beside him.

Derek moans, rolling Stiles’ balls between his fingers.

Stiles can’t even warn Derek before he comes down his throat. Luckily, that hasn’t ever been a problem before.

Derek cleans him up and slides back up, caressing Stiles’ thighs and waist along the way.

Stiles uses what little energy remains to kiss Derek. He knows Derek’s yet to get off, and can’t imagine doing anything physically to help. “Fuck my mouth.” Stiles whispers against Derek’s lips, his voice raw.

Derek freezes. “You need rest.”

“You do the work, stupid.” Stiles smirks, eyes heavy. Stiles can see the struggle behind Derek’s eyes-- the reminder that Stiles’ needs to heal, and that Derek should be taking care of him, but also the need to claim, and get off.

“Do it,” Stiles begs. “I want you to.”

Derek buys himself time by kissing Stiles slow and deep, and Stiles knows Derek is losing his internal battle by how desperate his thrusts against his hip grow.

“Derek. Use me,” Stiles groans, biting Derek’s lower lip.

A broken moan escapes Derek, and he finally nods.

Stiles tries to shift up on the mattress into a sitting position for better access, and Derek helps, his eyes worried that he’s about to do the wrong thing.

“Derek.” Stiles grips his hand. “It’s not like we’ve never done this before. I’m fine. Now, use my mouth and get off so we can go back to sleep.” Stiles isn’t sure if all the words come out, or if he’s even really awake, but he can’t let himself sleep until he knows Derek has gotten off.

Derek nods again, and runs a hand through Stiles’ hair as he traces his dick over Stiles’ lips. 

Stiles dips his tongue out to collect the beads of precome, already salivating. Stiles drops his jaw and tilts his head back against the headboard.

Derek finally gives in and slides in slowly.

Stiles moans at the weight of Derek in his mouth, how it fills him up, and the salty tang that he’s grown addicted to.

The moan electrifies Derek, and he thrusts all the way in, hitting the back of Stiles’ throat.

Stiles gags, but recovers quickly, letting himself relax and adjust.

Derek controls himself, slowly working himself further down Stiles’ throat. 

Stiles’ eyes water, but he can see the blissed out expression on Derek’s face from the reflection of the moon, so Stiles brings a hand up to Derek’s ass to urge him faster. Not sure how much longer he can stay awake, he does his best to make Derek understand that he wants this, and to get rough with him.

Derek locks eyes with Stiles for a long moment, pulled all the way out, like he’s still fighting an internal battle. 

Stiles sticks his tongue out, winks at him, and uses the very last ounce of energy to pull Derek forward and into his mouth.

The dam within Derek breaks and he gets two handfuls of Stiles’ hair, and fucks without abandon into Stiles’ mouth. The room fills with wet noise, and broken moans from the two of them. Stiles’ knows that if he weren’t so damn tired, he would already be hard and ready for another round seeing Derek this raw.

Stiles slips one of his fingers between Derek’s cheeks to poke at his hole and Derek’s body instantly goes taut and he shoots down Stiles’ throat. 

When Derek pulls out, Stiles gasps for air, and sags back down to the mattress. 

Derek collects himself and shuffles the two of them down the mattress until Stiles is comfortable. Derek hasn’t even finished adjusting himself before Stiles passes out.

Stiles doesn’t have any more nightmares that night.

* * *

 

It’s another day before Stiles is able to sit up in bed and stay awake longer than an hour at a time. He’s managed to convince Derek to bring him his laptop, and notebooks so he can do some research and feel useful.

He emails Wiki a few times to reassure her that he’s okay, and has been drinking his tea. He apologizes for scaring her. She apologizes in turn for not giving him more information on protecting the wolves in his pack - specifically how to draw out aconite poisoning. She sends him mixtures and pendants to help with control, and other little things that really don’t apply to Stiles’ pack, but he appreciates her effort.

He’d apparently been so careful with the information he shared, that she had no idea he was even  _ in _ a pack. She knew about Isaac because he was at the shop with him, but she never thought he might actually  _ belong  _ to a pack.

After talking with Derek, they agree that he can share any information that won't lead her to Beacon Hills. 

Stiles composes an email explaining that an alpha has discovered a ritual that requires them to eat an emissaries heart under a blood moon. Emissary law requires that he not cause bodily harm or risk being shunned, but he needs to defend himself and protect the pack. How can he avoid direct confrontation and keep himself and his pack alive?

Her immediate response is to offer him sanctuary with her family. 

Stiles politely declines, because he can’t leave his pack vulnerable; plus he still doesn’t completely trust that her family won’t use his ignorance to their benefit.

Stiles is about to pass out again when Lydia and Allison come in with food. 

“Derek asked us to bring this up to you.” Allison smiles, sitting at the end of the bed as Lydia sets the tray down and moves to close his laptop. 

“Eat,” she tells him. “You’ve hardly touched your food in days. That might be slowing down your recovery.”

Stiles grumbles, “Stop calling it recovery. You’re all acting like I just underwent surgery.”

Allison clicks her tongue. “You kind of did.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. 

Lydia sits down and pulls a pillow into her lap. “You seem to forget that aconite is poisonous to humans too and  _ can  _ kill you. It’s just one of the few things that can  _ definitely  _ kill a werewolf. If not for your magic, you would have died.”

Stiles chews this over with a bite of pasta.

“The fire marshal determined the cause of the fire,” Allison says, grabbing Stiles’ attention. “It  _ was  _ a bomb. How none of us heard it, we are still trying to figure out.”

“Fucking Peter, man,” Stiles growls. “Why my dad’s house? He has nothing to do with this.”

Lydia reaches over and rubs his back. 

“How’s my dad handling all this anyway? I haven’t seen him since… you know.” Stiles looks down.

Lydia rests against the headboard. “He spent the first day downstairs in a guest room, but when you didn’t wake up the next day he decided to trust us, and went back to work. He’s been by at least three times a day since, and should be back soon.”

“And the whole supernatural thing?” Stiles asks.

Allison clears her throat. “Aside from what you, Melissa, Lydia, and Derek have explained, he can’t deny what he saw with his own eyes.”

Lydia nods. “Yeah, if any skeptic saw the way your hands turned into lighting, the clouds of smoke emitting from bodies, and each wolf shift before passing out, they wouldn’t have a choice but to believe.”

Stiles barely remembers it, but that sounds about right.

“My dad spent a few hours the first night talking to him.” Allison continues. “He’s good at the whole parent thing.”

Stiles nods, hoping it was enough to tide his dad over, because he can’t imagine having an intense conversation of any kind right now. He needs to figure out how to put an end to Peter.

Stiles is careful not to let anyone know what he’s planning. At this point, Stiles doesn’t have enough fingers to count off all the offenses Peter has lodged against those he cares about. Peter has to be put down for good, and if that means he loses his magic? Well, he hasn’t had it long enough to care. 

Stiles finishes his pasta and drinks his tea, knowing that the girls won’t leave him until he does. They gather his things, kiss his head, and head out.

Lydia turns at the last second with a crinkled nose. “When you wake up again, you should really shower. It smells like something died in here.”

“Ha ha,” Stiles says slowly, rolling his eyes as he slips back under his blankets.

* * *

 

Stiles wakes up to Erica and Boyd next. Erica’s finally feeling the weight of the baby, and heavy on her feet.

She waddles over to him and bends over to wrap him in a hug, her belly knocking his laptop to the side of his legs. “Thank you,” she chokes. “You saved us, and I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”

Stiles feels his heart clench, and for the first time all day, he remembers that he actually did a good thing and that being stuck in bed for a few days  _ was  _ worth it. “Just know that if you try and revoke my godparent status again, you’re a terrible person.” Stiles tries to joke, and it earns him two chuckles. 

Boyd offers his own thanks, and they ask him if he needs anything.

Stiles can see Erica’s tired, and sends them back to their room down the hall so she can rest.

Stiles manages a quick shower and barely makes it back to his bed in a towel before Derek runs into the room, dripping sweat. “You should’ve told me you were showering!” He huffs, finding Stiles sprawled across their bed with a towel around his waist, and heavy lids.

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbles, struggling to tug the comforter over himself for a nap where he lies. “Didn’t have the energy for a shower, let alone a quickie.”

Derek sighs, and pulls the towel from under Stiles to rub himself down. He must have been out running and just got back when he heard Stiles turn the shower off. “Not because of  _ that _ .” 

Stiles feels himself drifting off, and Derek’s words filter through cotton-filled ears.

“I could have helped you. What if you had fallen?”

When Stiles doesn’t respond, Derek gives up and slides him deeper into the bed.

Stiles lets sleep take him when he hears the water running for Derek’s own shower.

* * *

 

The next time Stiles wakes up, Scott is sitting in the corner of his room reading. Stiles puts on his best ‘I'm fine’ face and sits up to talk to his best friend. “What you got there?”

Scott looks up quickly, but recovers smoothly. “The requirements and steps to become a vet.” Scott looks back down and blows out a long puff of air. “Who knew it took so much to become a vet? Seems like an awful lot of work, especially since I’m only getting the qualifications as a cover so I can treat supernatural beings.”

“We all have our cross to bear,” Stiles sighs, already feeling like a nap when he’s only had his eyes open for less than a minute.

“Yeah,” Scott chuckles weakly. “So, I haven’t caught you awake in days. How are you feeling? Anything I can do for you? Want some food?”

Stiles grunts and goes to get out of bed, only to realize he’s still naked from his shower. He wraps the bulky blanket around himself and stumbles with clumsy legs toward his dresser to find some sweatpants. “You can get everyone to stop treating me like an invalid,” Stiles mutters, head spinning from moving too fast.

Scott must sense Stiles’ dizzy spell because he’s suddenly at Stiles elbow with a strong grip.

“Let go of me!” Stiles shouts, ripping his arm out of Scott’s grip. “I can walk six feet just fine, thank you.” Stiles’ head keeps spinning, but he refuses to admit he needs help. He’s no good to anyone stuck up in bed, he needs to get over this, and get back to work on finding a solution.

He’s not used to being bedridden. Pain? Pain he can handle, but the energy and dizzy spells aren’t as easy to work through.

Scott puts his hands up and backs a foot away, but doesn’t leave his side until he makes it back to bed safely.

“Where’s Derek?” Stiles asks, pouring himself a new glass of tea that will hopefully continue to expedite his recovery.

Scott sits down at the foot of the bed. “He’s running a perimeter check.”

Stiles drags his laptop over, and bites his lip while he logs in. “Well, he should hurry back and fuck me.” He feels like the night before really did replenish his energy, so sex with Derek just get even better.

Scott chokes on absolutely nothing, and literally covers his ears. “What?! No! Ew!”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “It happens, Scotty.” Stiles decides to take his irritation out on his best friend, and torture him a little longer. “You see, when a man loves another man they-”

Scott stands and runs across the room, hands still firmly planted on either ear. “NO! Stop! I don’t want to picture these things!”

Stiles huffs a laugh and settles back into his laptop. When Scott finally drops his hands and inches back to the bed, Stiles elaborates. “For real though, his magic helps recharge mine by skin to skin contact, and the best way to cover the most skin is to-”

“I get it!” Scott throws a hand up. “He’s not going to be back for another ten minutes, so you’re stuck with me until then. Once he’s back, I will get as far away as I can.”

Stiles flips an absent hand. “We’ll close the door.”

“Close the door?!” 

Stiles looks up with furrowed brows. “Yes… because the rooms are soundproof…”

“But we’re all here!” Scott says with wide arms.

Stiles looks around, “Not in the room?”

“But we’re still here! You can’t have sex with us all in the house.”

Stiles nods once, hard. “Yes, I can. We do it all the time. Haven’t you and Allison when you two sleep here?”

“No!” Scott shouts again, and really, his high squeally voice is starting to grate on Stiles’ nerves.

Stiles huffs a long breath through his nose. “Well, talk about a missed opportunity. You and Ally should take advantage of the privacy.” 

Scott opens his mouth to continue his weak argument in favor of no sex in the shared house. 

Stiles holds up a finger. “Scott, I am this close to kicking you out. We are adults, and Derek is my boyfriend. We have sex. We’re not going to stop having sex in our house if we don’t have to. Shut up about it.”

Scott crosses his arms but doesn’t push further.

They both sit in silence while Stiles checks his email. There’s another email from Wiki, insisting he come meet her family. She believes they can help him, and she’s worried he might not know what kind of trouble he’s in.

“I’m aware, thank you,” Stiles mumbles at the screen before closing his laptop and resting his head against the headboard. 

“Aware of what?” Scott asks.

Stiles waves absently at his laptop. “I vaguely told Wiki about the ritual, and asked if there was any way an emissary could fight back, and she’s now insisting that I meet her family, because I don’t understand the danger I’m in.”

“You should think about it, they might be able to-”

“No.”

“You never know, they could-”

“I said, no, Scott.”

Scott shuts up again. 

Stiles looks at his ceiling, biting his lip. “I knew we were stupid for trusting Peter in the first place. We should never have-”

“You trusted him, too.” Scott points out. 

Stiles tilts his head down to check and see if his best friend grew a second head or something. “Bitch, when?” Stiles recounts all the times Peter has double-crossed them, and how Stiles  _ always  _ argued against trusting him.

“You let Lydia and Allison go on using him as an informant. You knew what they were doing and I don’t remember you trying to stop them.”

Stiles scoffs, and throws his hands out. “We had bigger things to worry about, Scott. Like the pack of bloodthirsty freaking alphas! I didn’t have time to worry about what Peter was up to.”

“I’m just saying-”

“Wait.” Stiles holds up a hand and looks away, things suddenly clicking into place in his mind. “He  _ knew.” _

“Knew what?” Scott asks, looking down at the floor where Stiles has leveled his gaze. 

Stiles looks back up. “He  _ knew _ we were distracted. That’s how he gets the upper hand; he waits until we are distracted and then he strikes.” Stiles licks his lips, looking around at nothing but finally seeing the whole picture. “He waits until we are distracted, and then he slips under the radar, and gets what he wants.”

Scott starts to think this over too. “Like… back in January, he used the fire at the hospital as a distraction to find you, because he thought you would be vulnerable.”

“Exactly.”

“So…” Scott thinks. “What was he doing when he set the bomb off at your dads?”

Stiles pauses, but nothing strikes him. “I don’t know.”

* * *

 

Later on, Stiles wakes up to Isaac trying to sneak into the room with a tray of food. 

“Dinner time already?” Stiles asks, pulling himself upright.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Isaac whispers.

Stiles groans at his sore muscles. “You don’t have to whisper, I’m awake now.”

“I know.” Isaac ducks his head. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Me too.” Stiles smiles, not willing to admit that he still feels like garbage.

Isaac walks back toward the door, leaving him to rest, but stops and turns just before he leaves. “Scott told us that Peter might have been up to something. Any idea what that is yet?”

Stiles clenches his eyes closed and wills his voice to remain steady. “Not yet.”

Isaac must accept this answer because when Stiles lifts his head, Isaac is gone. 

Stiles shakes his sandwich in protest. He’s tired of being expected to know all the answers and figure everything out. He can’t be  _ everyone’s  _ brain, he needs fucking  _ help _ . Even when he’s literally sleeping twenty hours out of the day to regain his strength, he’s still expected to figure everything out. 

He throws his tray on the floor in frustration. The pack should stop bringing him food, and fucking help him come up with a plan.

Jackson comes in after the loud crash echoed through the house.

“Great.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “What do  _ you  _ want?”

Jackson bristles, but something else crosses his face and relaxes his features. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

This takes Stiles’ by surprise. “Wait, did Derek put you up to this?”

Jackson shakes his head. “No, I just wanted to thank you for saving my life. You still get on my nerves, so don’t expect me to start worshiping the ground you walk on like everyone else, but I know I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for you.”

Stiles feels bad for his rash action and the ugly thoughts he had a moment ago. He should give the pack a break. They are good people, even if they do rely on him too much. “No problem.” Stiles nods.

Jackson picks up the tray and calls down the stairs, “Don’t worry. It was me, I knocked it off the bed.”

“But you-” Stiles starts to argue.

Jackson lifts a finger to tell Stiles to shut up. “I’ll make you another one.”

Stiles bites his tongue and lets him.

* * *

 

Finally, Derek comes back, and just as quickly as Stiles is relieved to see his face, he’s pissed that he’s been MIA all day just the same. “You’ve been busy.”

Derek pulls off his shirt. “I had some things I needed to take care of.”

Stiles nods, looking him up and down. “Sure. I can handle myself. I didn’t need you.”

“Stiles.” Derek looks at him with a placating hand out. “You told me to go do something. You told me you were fine and didn’t need me to baby you, so I left you alone.”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted you to leave me alone  _ all day.” _

“Sorry,” Derek grunts, walking to the bathroom. When he comes back out, Stiles is still fuming. Derek doesn’t recognise the danger and innocently says, “So did you figure out what Peter was up to?”

And that’s all it takes. That’s the straw that snaps this camel’s back. 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” Stiles shrieks, and the volume goes to show how much he’s recovered.

Derek looks toward the open door and rushes to close it so the rest of the pack don’t have to hear Stiles losing it.

“No, leave it open!” Stiles yells.

Derek freezes and looks back at Stiles. 

“Are you all listening? Yeah? Well, hear this!” Stiles feels his hands spark weakly in his lap. “I don’t know when I became the  _ only  _ person with a brain because you all walk around constantly asking me ‘Have you figured this out? Have you figured that out? What’s this? What’s that? What do we do? When? Where? How? Why? Why? Why?  _ Why?!’”  _ Stiles stops to take a breath, and he can hear his pulse in his ears.

Derek remains still, watching Stiles carefully. 

“I can’t do this alone, and I’m fucking  _ tired  _ of cleaning up all your shit!” Stiles takes another breath, and finally feels some of the stress leak from his bones. 

Derek steps forward, “Are you done?”

“Am I  _ done _ ?” Stiles bites, “Don’t talk to me like that.”

Derek keeps his voice low. “Don’t talk to  _ them  _ like that,” he points toward the door. “They’re worried sick about you, and they’ll do anything you ask. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you can’t abuse them like that.”

Stiles feels the words like a slap to the face, and suddenly the fight drains out of him. “I just-” Stiles doesn’t know how to explain himself, doesn’t know how to apologize. 

“I know,” Derek whispers, stepping closer, as he reaches out a hand.

Stiles drops his hands and fights the burning behind his eyes. 

“We understand,” Derek tells him, wrapping him in his arms, the door still wide open.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles chokes. “I’m just so fucking scared.”

“So are we.” Derek kisses his hair, brushing it out of his face.

“I’ve been trying so fucking hard, you know? And every time I think I’ve figured something out, something gets in the way and I’m right back to not having a plan.”

“It’s okay.”

“I need to see them-” Stiles starts to pull away, needing to see his friends and apologize.

Derek holds him down. “They know. It’s okay,” Derek continues to soothe him. “We’ve all stood back and given you space to make the plan because  _ you gave yourself that job _ . We didn’t want to make you feel like we didn’t think you could do it, so we have been waiting until you needed something from us.”

Stiles looks up at him and knows he’s right. The pack never told him he  _ had  _ to figure things out, he took it on himself. His struggle has been all his fault.

“We  _ want  _ to help you.”

Stiles nods and wipes away a single tear. “I’m such an asshole.”

“No you’re not.” Derek rubs his shoulder. “You just care too much and lose sight of some things. You want to be the hero.”

Stiles lets the words sink in, and doesn’t argue. “Why are you being so nice to me? You should yell, use your alpha eyes, kick me out of the pack...”

Derek scoffs. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

Derek stays quiet a moment, and Stiles almost fears that he’s starting to agree with him. “You’re my mate, Stiles.”

Stiles groans. “I don’t know what that  _ means _ .”

Derek takes a deep breath, and Stiles listens to the steady beat of his heart beneath his ear. “It means that I will always support you, and love you unconditionally.”

Stiles’ throat seizes at the declaration.

“Even if you make an ass of yourself, and throw a tantrum like a three-year-old.”

Stiles shoves him away, and when he looks up Derek’s smirking. Stiles opens his mouth to tell Derek he’s a jerk, and that he hates him, but what comes out is a strong, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Derek grins. “Now change your diaper, and let’s get some sleep.”

Stiles finds enough energy to grab the biggest pillow he can reach and throw it at Derek’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind comments yesterday, it helped me work on chapter twelve. I mean it, you guys are awesome.
> 
> Also, a common note I get is about the magic world I'm developing, and I cannot express how happy I am that it's noticed. I spent countless hours rethinking every aspect of this verse's magic, and it's one of the few things I've developed that I take immense pride in (and you've only seen the tip of the ice burg, and it will still only have scratched the surface by the end of this fic, because the third installment is planned to center around Emissary lore, and all that entails.)
> 
> Anywho, thank you guys! You're dabomb.com


	8. I do want you to know I hold you up above everyone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finally starts feeling better and makes time for Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the eighth day of Christmas I gave to my boo! Eight hours of quality time.
> 
> This chapter title come from [Good to You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3y_tjLBqTY) by Marianas Trench. This is v relevant. I recommend listening to the song before and after the chapter. Trust.

Peter volunteered to pick up the vials of Stiles’ blood for the Alphas from Deaton. Since he wasn’t an alpha yet, he could be trusted not to run off with them. He still had to kill Derek first, and Derek was still healing from his near death experience in the hospital. Peter uses the opportunity to tell Deaton he needs one more set of vials for a new alpha.

He planned to hold onto the vials until he discovered the real ritual, only then would he execute it for himself.  

He knew the Alphas would grow suspicious if he silently went along with the plan knowing that this was his one shot to gain the shift too. As long as he remained a Beta, he wouldn’t be able to pretend to participate. 

Peter let it slip, on purpose, that the reason Derek had fought them so hard was because a survivor from the newest Alpha’s pack spilled the beans to Scott. 

Deucalion immediately turned on the new alpha in outrage, and demanded he explain why he left anyone alive. Deucalion told the alpha he had no right to the power he had, nor a place in his pack. 

Just as Deucalion had lifted his claw, Peter asked to challenge the new alpha for his power so it didn’t go to waste. He explained that he deserved the power. He had proven his value to the pack, while this alpha had done nothing. 

Peter won the duel with little effort as adrenaline burned through his system, and finally regained his alpha power. He silently reveled in the fact that everything was going according to plan, and found more pep in his step.

By default, Deucalion allowed him to drink the vials meant for the deceased alpha. Peter still had no intention of participating. He saved the extra set he received from Deaton, to use for the first Blood Moon after he discovered the true ritual.

* * *

* * *

 

Stiles wakes up to Derek curled around him, with a leg thrown over his, pressing as much skin to Stiles as he could. For the first time in three days, Stiles feels like he can get out of bed and go about his normal day. He takes a deep breath, smiling up at the sunlight coming through the window above him.

It’s going to be okay.

He lifts his arm that’s under Derek, and curls it around his back, and finds sun-kissed skin. 

Derek’s eyes pop open and he twists his head to look up at Stiles. “You okay? Need anything?” His voice is gruff, and his eyes are crossing with the effort to focus.

“I’m okay,” Stiles says happily. “All better.”

Derek lets out a long breath and sags against Stiles.

“You can go back to sleep.” Stiles rubs his back. “It’s barely eight.”

Derek scrubs his cheek across Stiles chest, soft sounds slipping from his lips, and within seconds he’s asleep.

Stiles traces the lines of Derek’s body in the sunlight; the exhaustion written all over him. He realizes that Derek has been maintaining a careful facade over the last few days because he was left to take care of everyone alone. Stiles thinks back on the year and shamefully concludes that Derek has been on his own for a long time. 

Since Stiles decided that he was the only one who could solve the problem, he’s locked himself away, and left everything to Derek. The worst part is that Stiles never figured anything out, and Derek suffered for nothing. They both suffered for  _ nothing _ .

Stiles notices something move in the doorway and looks over to see Isaac standing awkwardly. Stiles lifts two fingers in greeting.

“You’re really okay?” Isaac asks quietly, trying not to wake Derek.

Stiles nods with a grin, “I think so.”

The smile from the doorway is infectious.

Stiles remembers the events from the night before. “Hey, about what I said last night…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Isaac shakes his head. “It’s okay, we’ve all been under a lot of stress. We’re just glad you’re better.”

“I’m okay.” Stiles confirms. 

The last week must have finally caught up with Derek because he doesn’t even twitch through the exchange.

Stiles watches Isaac’s eyes flick between the hallway, Stiles, and the empty mattress. Stiles rolls his eyes, and tilts his head toward the other side of the bed. “Come on.”  

Isaac grins and walks carefully to the bed before slipping behind Derek and pressing his back to his alpha’s.

It’s only a matter of seconds before everyone else peaks around the corner and piles onto the mattress too. Stiles can’t keep track of where everyone ends up, but Lydia places herself on the other side of him and rests her head against his chest.

Stiles wraps his other arm around her, his fingers tangling loosely in her hair.

“You really scared me,” she whispers.

Stiles rubs her back. “Me too.” 

She holds him tighter and lets out a sigh of relief. “Next time, we’ll make sure we are better prepared.”

“I don’t know how prepared we can be for surprise poisoning, but…”

“We can have you drinking the tea already, you might need to keep it in the fridge, and just get in the habit of drinking it every day,” Lydia suggests.

Stiles thinks this over a minute. “I’ll have to ask Wiki if that would work, or if I would build up a tolerance or something.” Stiles sucks in a breath looking for his phone. “Shit. I need to apologize to her. I kind of lashed out at her, too, yesterday.” Stiles didn’t attack so much as give her the cold shoulder, but she still didn’t deserve the effects of his temper.

Lydia taps his chest in comfort.

“I really  _ am  _ sorry for yesterday. None of you deserved that, and I was so stressed I didn’t realize that I was the cause of it all.”

Stray hands find his skin to accept his apology, and scent him. The bed shifts as they all burrow in for a nap, and Stiles feels vibrations against his chest. Stiles realizes that even in sleep, Derek knows he’s surrounded by pack, and must be showing his comfort to them subconsciously. 

Stiles listens as more purrs fill his ears and soon dozes off, too. Not because he needs to, but because for the first time in months he feels like everything is going to work out.

* * *

 

Stiles wakes up to Lydia gasping, and grabbing at him. “Lydia?” Stiles asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Lydia begs with wide eyes. “I heard… you were…”

The rest of the pack have woken up and are looking over Lydia and Derek to see what the problem is. 

“Lydia, it was just a dream. I’m okay. We are all okay.” Stiles comforts. 

She blinks and looks around, “But I heard… you were…”

“I was sleeping, and so were you. It was just a dream.” Stiles tries again.

Hands come to Lydia in comfort.

“It felt real, I feel like something bad-” She stutters, sitting up.

Derek finally sits up too, reaching a hand to her. “You’re safe. We’re all safe.”

She finally accepts his assurance, and they all officially wake up with strong stretches.

Stiles sits up, not feeling like he needs any help, and his mood improves tenfold. “Who wants some of my mom's Chicken Broccoli Cheese soup?”

The answers he receives are a mixture of moans, mhmm’s, yeses and please’s.

He has to climb over them to make his way downstairs. Derek tried to follow, but Stiles waved him off so he could wake up at his own pace. Stiles could concentrate on making soup whilst he wasn’t needed for anything urgent. It was about time he started contributing to meals, instead of letting the pack prepare food for him.

* * *

 

Stiles finishes loading the dishwasher after lunch while everyone goes their separate ways to rest their full tummies, shower, and get ready for the day. He finds Derek in the laundry room folding clothes, and Stiles heart clenches in his chest, happiness spreading through his body like a tangible thing. 

Stiles leans against the doorframe and watches Derek complete the mundane chore. 

Derek’s wearing an undershirt and loose sport shorts and the skin Stiles can see makes his mouth water. “Are you just going to stand there all day, or are you going to help me?” 

Stiles blinks out of his daydream of getting his boyfriend away from the pack for a quickie.

Derek turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow and a lace bra in his hands.

“I could get into that.” Stiles winks, stepping in and hopping up on the dryer.

“What?” Derek asks, brows furrowed.

Stiles points to the undergarment in his hand.

A few seconds tick by before Derek catches up with Stiles’ kinky suggestion. He doesn’t satisfy Stiles with a snappy response, and instead drops it in one of the baskets lined up on the floor. “While they are staying here, I’m doing the laundry.”

Stiles swings his legs. “I’m sure they can do their own.”

Derek tilts his head. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. The last time I let Isaac do his own laundry the entire hallway was filled with foam.”

Stiles finds himself giggling. “I thought that only happened in movies!”

Derek huffs a laugh of his own. “We all did.”

“How come I didn’t know about that?” Stiles asks, looking around and recognising he hasn’t been in the laundry room in months. He knew his clothes were getting cleaned, but he never thought about how they were washed.

“You were busy,” Derek says, looking back down at his chore.

Stiles watches Derek carefully try to not upset Stiles, and the effort it takes to bite his tongue is palpable. “Come here?” Stiles asks, not wanting to make Derek do anything else he doesn’t have to.

Derek freezes, either shaken by the  _ request _ or afraid that Stiles may want to argue, which given the past few months isn’t entirely unlikely. 

“Just for a second. Please.” Stiles swings his legs in an attempt to show how totally non-hostile he is right now.

Derek drops the item in his hand into the appropriate basket and makes his way over. 

Stiles pulls him in by the belly of his shirt to stand between his legs. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?”

Derek dips his head, only a few inches from Stiles’ face.

“I’m really grateful for everything you do for me, and I’m sorry if you’ve ever felt like I take you for granted,” Stiles says, voice strong, and slips his arms over Derek’s shoulders to pull him closer. “You’ve done more for me than anyone ever has.”

Derek drops his head to Stiles’ shoulder and takes a deep breath. That action alone is enough to make Stiles feel even worse. Knowing Derek, he’s probably been running himself ragged to do everything possible to take care of Stiles, all the while thinking he’s not good enough and that he’s letting people down.

“You’re the best,” Stiles whispers against his temple, thinking back to that gory night in his room where Derek felt he had hit his lowest, torn to shreds and unable to save his pack. Stiles saw him breaking in his bathroom mirror, and told him, ‘I’ve seen you at your worst, and I still think you’re the best.’ Stiles considers that his first declaration of love, because even if he didn’t know it, in that moment he was officially past the point of no return. “You’re the best,” Stiles whispers again.

Derek sags and nods against him.

“I don’t say it enough, but you are.” And then, because Stiles is feeling extra sappy and wants to wax poetic to Derek until he stops feeling useless for the rest of his life, he pulls out the big guns. “Your mom is so proud of you.”

Derek wraps his arms around him tighter and presses his lips firmly against Stiles’ pulse point.

Stiles threads his fingers through Derek’s hair. “As soon as I’m able, we should go see her. You haven’t been in awhile.” Stiles knows that has to do with the fact he has been distracted and more recently out of action. After everything they’ve been through, he is determined to carve out time for the both of them to visit Derek’s family in the otherworlds.

Derek’s hands come down to Stiles’ ass and they grip him tightly, pulling him flush against Derek as he sucks a deep mark into Stiles’ shoulder. 

“Okay,” Stiles chuckles, “Not that I’m opposed, but it’s a little weird that you’re getting this worked up over talk of your mom.”

Derek drags his teeth over Stiles’ neck. “You’re okay.”

“I am,” Stiles breathes, losing track of any reason not to spread himself across the dryer and beg Derek to fuck him senseless. 

Derek lifts his head and presses his head firmly against Stiles’, their cheeks scrubbing against each other as Derek runs his open mouth across Stiles’ jaw and cheekbones. “No,  _ you’re okay. _ ”

“Oh.” Stiles gets it. 

Derek has been so focussed on getting Stiles’ better, that he’s not been able to relax himself. Now that Stiles is walking around again, he can finally lean on Stiles and let go of the stress of seeing his mate incapacitated.

“Fuck,” Stiles breathes, when Derek sucks his lower lip between his teeth and bites down hard. “Yeah, okay.” Stiles grabs Derek roughly and glues himself against him from hip to nose, already throbbing, ready to give Derek whatever he wants. 

Derek reaches an arm out and slams the door to the laundry room closed, and rips his shirt off, just before he pulls Stiles’ off as well.

Stiles finds breath to ask Derek something that’s only just occurred to him as they are sliding their shorts down. “Is this-” Stiles loses his train of thought when two of Derek’s fingers find his hole and make quick work of penetrating him. “Oh my God.”

Derek drops to his knees, and finishes pulling Stiles’ shorts off. His fingers find their way back into Stiles again, and his mouth sucks Stiles’ brain right out through his dick. 

Stiles feels weak, and can’t hold his legs up so he rests them over Derek’s shoulders, and finds purchase on the shelf over his head to hold him up. “Oh my god, Derek. Fuck. Yes.”

Only when the burn reaches just shy of painful does Stiles’ realize they don’t have any lube. Stiles whines, not wanting this to end, but knowing that Derek would never fuck him dry.

Derek stands up and starts to line himself up. 

Stiles is so shocked he can’t bring himself to say anything, because surely Derek knows this will hurt. Stiles is finally pressing against Derek’s chest when he feels Derek slide in without any resistance. 

_ Lube _ .

Stiles doesn’t ask where it came from and settles for holding on for dear life because Derek is slamming into him like a jackhammer, and everything feels right in the world.

* * *

 

Stiles flickers back to full consciousness curled up in a blanket on the laundry room floor against Derek’s chest. “Damn,” Stiles breathes, looking over to find Derek blinking lazily at him. “You outdid yourself.”

Derek blushes at the compliment, and presses his nose to Stiles’ shoulder.

“Like…that was…” Stiles lifts a hand to his temple and spreads his fingers with a small explosion sound effect.

Derek chuckles, but makes no move to untangle them from their spot on the floor.

Stiles thinks back on the last hour. “Wait, oh my God.” He reaches behind himself, “Did you use detergent as lube? Because let me tell you, buddy, if you did-”

“I didn’t.” Derek snorts, looking at him like he’s crazy. 

“Well, then how did you get lube in here?” Stiles asks rolling his eyes.

“Boyd slipped it under the door.” Derek mutters, turning away.

“Boyd,  _ what _ ?!” Stiles shouts. “Oh my God.” Stiles sits up, remembering the question he tried to ask Derek earlier. “This room isn’t soundproof, is it?”

Derek shakes his head.

“And you knew that?” Stiles looks around, trying to figure out how to slip out, up the stairs, and into his room so he can hide for the rest of his life. “You  _ knew  _ that and let me…” Stiles replays the audio of the past hour and feels himself blister from how hot his blush is. He has it on good authority that he can sometimes sound more animal than the entire pack combined on a full moon.

Derek pulls him back down with gentle hands. “They figured out what we were doing pretty quick. Erica made Boyd bring us lube, because she didn’t want to hear you complain for three days about how sore your ass was, and then they all locked themselves in their rooms. Which  _ are  _ sound proof.”

Stiles sags in relief, only slightly embarrassed now. “I hate you.”

Derek smirks, and brings one clenched hand up to his temple.

“Don’t you do it,” Stiles warns with a finger.

Derek’s fingers fan out with a small explosion sound as an ode to the mindblowing sex they just had.

* * *

 

After Stiles is cleaned up, he decides that he and Derek need a day to themselves. While Derek is is shaving, Stiles takes the opportunity to tap on the rest of the pack’s doors and tell them they need to get out of the house for the day. Safely behind their soundproof door, Derek can’t hear him convincing the rest of the pack to give them some alone time. 

Some are harder to persuade than others, but Lydia is the hardest. Stiles reassures her that everyone will be safe within the wards at their own houses. He and Derek need a day to recoup. 

At the front door Stiles is waving them all out, who are all taking their sweet little time. “Come on, move it. Daddies need some alone time.”

“Ew,” Scott complains, plugging his ears. 

Stiles smiles, popping him on the butt. “Come on, get a move on, go play with your friends.”

Scott drops his fingers. “You do realize we are still the same age, right?”

Stiles nods, “Yes, but your alpha is in need of some one on one time with a very specific Stilinski.”

“Gross,” Scott groans again.

Stiles props himself against the open door. “I can keep torturing you, Scotty. It’s almost as fun as-”

“Fine!” Scott laughs, throwing his hands in the air in defeat. “You win!”

Stiles winks, and Scott bounds off to Allison’s car. 

* * *

 

Derek finds Stiles in the kitchen making dinner, and Stiles looks up with a smile as he puts a roast in the oven to cook for the next few hours. 

“Where’s everyone?” Derek asks, pulling up a stool.

Stiles wipes his hands, and heads for the fridge to pour them both a glass of lemonade. “I told them that if they weren’t going to put in for rent and utilities, that they had to go home and mooch off their parents.”

“Stiles.” Derek pinches his nose.

When Derek doesn’t smirk or shake his head in annoyance, Stiles realizes that Derek might think he’s serious. “Wow,” Stiles says quietly, his head shifting back like he can retreat from this realization. “I must have been a bigger asshole than I thought this past year, if you thought I would  _ actually  _ say that.”

Derek looks up quickly. “No. I didn’t- you weren’t...”

“I was an asshole,” Stiles states, placing a tall glass in front of Derek. “You don’t have to keep sugarcoating the shit cake that I baked myself.”

“What?” Derek scoffs, definitely picturing the dessert Stiles has so eloquently described.

Stiles lets himself smile at Derek’s shock. “I don’t want you all to make excuses for me. I have treated you all like extras in my own Lifetime movie, and I’m going to get my act together.”

Derek nods and looks down at his fingers.

“Don’t feel bad,” Stiles says quietly, trying to figure out how to both apologize and not make Derek feel like he did something wrong. “I’m responsible for my own actions.” Stiles walks around the island to stand next to Derek. “You were great, and I definitely didn’t deserve the way you let me walk all over you, and had you fought me on things… it  _ could  _ have gotten messy. My point is!” Stiles redirects, taking Derek’s hands from his lap. “I love you. I love that you love me even when I’m acting like an asshole.”

Derek seems just shy of accepting that he didn’t do anything wrong.

“I was the  _ biggest  _ asshole. A  _ gaping  _ asshole.” Stiles smiles, knowing that Derek is a visual person and just pictured it.

Derek shakes his head and pulls Stiles in for a delicate kiss. “So why did you really kick everyone out? If you’re set on apologizing for your gaping asshole, shouldn’t they be here?”

“ _ This _ gaping asshole is yours so-”

“Okay, we can stop with that.” Derek shakes his head, eyes clenched.

“What? You don’t like my  _ gaping asshole _ ? Should I find someone who does?” Stiles taunts, leaning away.

“You’re unbearable,” Derek groans.

Stiles smiles, leaning in. “But you love it.”

Derek’s eyes flick to his, and a smooth smirk lifts his face. “I do.”

Stiles pecks him on the lips quickly, before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the living room. “Today is just us. They are safe in their homes, and we are safe here.”

Derek starts to argue about how they should be preparing for Peter.

“We can do that tomorrow. We’ve been trying for six months to figure it out, and it’s gotten us exactly nowhere. We all need to take a day, and regroup with fresh minds tomorrow.” Stiles says shoving him down on the couch.

Derek doesn’t argue and finds a comfortable position on the couch while Stiles sticks a movie into the player.

“And today, I know a certain alpha needs some good old-fashioned cuddle time.” Stiles winks, coming to lie on the opposite end of the couch. 

Derek looks over at him, having expected him to curl against his side. When he realizes that Stiles is only trying to give him what he wants, he smiles and shuffles over until he’s lying between Stiles’ legs, with his face resting against Stiles’ heart. 

Stiles lets out a long comfortable sigh and threads his fingers in Derek’s hair. 

Thirty minutes into the movie, Derek is humming low contentment, tracing patterns across bare patches of skin.

Stiles hasn’t been paying attention, too distracted by some of the things that were said the night before. Stiles is trying to figure out how to address the issue, and starts to feel warm under the collar, nerves making his throat tickle and his mouth dry.

Derek senses his discomfort and reaches a hand to rub at Stiles’ shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

Of course Derek picked up on his anxiety, it’s not like he can physically get any closer to Stiles’ tell-tale heartbeat. “Uhmm,” Stiles finds himself coughing, and Derek lifts his head to see if he’s okay. Stiles collects himself quickly, feeling suddenly like he could use a nap. He tells himself he’s being ridiculous and to just ask the question. 

“Stiles?” Derek asks again, eyes lighting up with worry.

“I’m okay, sorry.” Stiles says, pulling Derek’s head back down. “I was just thinking…and we totally don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. It actually kind of scares me, and that’s why I haven’t really mentioned it. Like at all. I generally just run right over the conversation before it can begin. So it’s my fault, and not yours-”

“Stiles.” Derek presses his lips to Stiles’  frantic heart. “Just ask me.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Okay. Yeah. Just ask you. No biggie. Just. Ask you.”

Derek actually chuckles against his chest, which sends a warm wave through Stiles limbs, and the words just slip out of his mouth.

“Can we talk about the  _ mate  _ thing?”

Derek freezes, but nods once.

“We don’t have to, I just-” Stiles starts, not wanting to make Derek talk about something that makes him as uncomfortable as it does Stiles, when today’s supposed to be full of nothing but TLC.

“No, it’s okay,” Derek says. “We need to.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asks, hoping Derek can take the lead and answer his fears in three sentences or less.

“Yeah. I never really explained what it means, and there’s not really an equivalent among humans, so I can understand your anxiety. That’s  _ my  _ fault.”

Stiles starts to argue, but Derek presses a finger to his lips and lifts his head to look at Stiles as he continues to speak.

“I told you last night that because you are my mate, I will always support you. No matter how much of an asshole you are, I will defend you.” Derek winks, and Stiles feels heat rise under his collar again. “For me, you’re  _ it _ . There isn’t another person who could take your place.”

“Derek…” Stiles breathes, suddenly unable to find enough air. “That’s a huge-”

Derek shushes him again. “Relax. I don’t expect you to feel the same, or feel like you can’t leave me if you wanted to one day.” Derek swallows thickly, looking away. He blinks his worries away and returns his gaze to Stiles. “Don’t feel like you have to stay with me, because I know you, and you  _ would  _ stick it out if you thought I’d never be happy again.”

“But you just said…” Stiles whispers, knowing Derek’s right, recognising that he’s already considered this and prepared himself for the reality.

Derek shakes his head. “First, if you’re unhappy,  _ I’m  _ unhappy, so don’t force yourself if it makes you unhappy.”

“Wanna go four for four hundred?” Stiles smirks at his excessive use of unhappy.

Derek rolls his eyes and continues. “Second, if one day you move on, it’s not like I can  _ never  _ find anyone else.”

Stiles miraculously holds back a haughty gasp, because  _ rude _ .

“That sounded bad.” Derek facepalms. “I just mean, I can still find connections if I need to…” Derek looks like he’d rather be battling a tractor than continue this conversation, and Stiles barely resists laughing. “This is why I’ve been putting this off.”

“I’m not mad yet. Keep trying,” Stiles encourages him to keep talking.

Derek levels his eyes with Stiles, and it must ground him because his next words aren’t as tight. “What I’m trying to say is that you  _ are  _ it for me. There isn’t  _ better _ . But if you left, I could find someone to fill the hole, but they would never be  _ you _ .”

“Oh,” Stiles breathes.

Derek nods. “But I don’t want you to freak out, we aren’t married, and I don’t expect you to feel the same, I’m just here as long as you’ll have me.” Derek lets his head fall back to Stiles’ chest, and he buries his nose for a not so subtle scent.

Stiles’ hand finally resumes motion and he caresses behind Derek’s ear while he thinks. “You know I love you, right?” Stiles asks, unable to say something as equally earthshaking as what Derek’s just admitted.

Derek nods against his chest.

“I mean, I can’t imagine what you feel, but I can’t imagine feeling anything stronger than I do…so that has to mean  _ something _ , right?” Stiles shrugs.

Derek nods again. “Don’t worry about needing to feel the same, Stiles. It’s okay. I know you love me.”

Stiles kisses Derek’s head after a moment, and whispers a quiet, “I do.”

* * *

 

The film ends and neither of them move. They remain intertwined, gently touching each other.

Stiles hasn’t stopped thinking about how Derek has basically declared that Stiles is his ever after. Stiles hasn’t really planned a future beyond getting rid of Peter, and over the duration of the movie, that is all he’s thought about. Stiles decides to say the first thing that comes to mind, because he’s anything but subtle in these situations.

“How many kids do you want?”

What happens next isn’t even on the list of possibilities that Stiles was prepared to face.

Derek looks up so quickly that he falls off Stiles and onto the floor.

“Oh my, God! Derek, are you okay?” Stiles rolls over to find Derek on his back and blinking up at him.

“Something is  _ really  _ wrong with you,” Derek grunts, sitting up with a hand to his head. 

Stiles finally laughs and slips onto the floor to pepper Derek’s boo boo with kisses.

After Derek pushes him away with a chuckle, Stiles sits back and waits for Derek’s answer. Derek realizes that Stiles is still waiting, and rolls his eyes. “We can’t have kids, so what does it matter?”

Stiles ignores the pang in his chest. “There’s adoption, and surrogacy, and all kinds of advances in science every day. So hush.”

“No.” Derek shakes his head, stretching his limbs out from their two-hour cuddle. “I just mean, it doesn’t matter. I know you’re just trying to make me feel better. It’s really okay, Stiles. You’re young, and don’t have to have these things figured out.”

“Will you shut up, and listen to me for one minute?” Stiles snipes, trying and failing to keep the heat from his words. 

Derek flinches, but fans a hand for Stiles to say what he wants.

“You need to stop thinking you don’t deserve to be happy, and keep trying to give me an out.  _ I’m not going anywhere. _ I just want to know what our future looks like, in a world where we aren’t desperately trying to save our lives.”

Derek blinks at him.

“Now.” Stiles crosses his arms. “How many kids do you want?”

Derek searches Stiles eyes for a joke but comes up empty. Stiles smiles at him and Derek crawls over him to pin him to the floor and kiss him like nothing else exists.

* * *

 

After an hour and half of making out like teenagers, fogging up the living room with their cheesy emotions, they finally stumble to the kitchen to pull the roast out of the oven and eat.

Stiles gets Derek talking, and after a few minutes he’s able to sit back and relax while Derek tells him everything that has been on his mind. 

Derek details his meetings with the bank over the loan and his investments. How he thinks that next year he’s going to try and open a repair shop, because he likes doing things with his hands, and he used to work on cars with his dad. He mentions that it would be good for the pack too because they could learn a lot, and it would keep them busy.

He tells Stiles about how he opened a college fund for Berica, which makes Stiles’ heart smile brighter than the sun.

He talks about the swimming hole and river in the woods, that he wants to clean up and secure it for pack gatherings now that it’s warm. 

He talks about what everyone else is doing and insists that it’s okay for everyone to go to college. He’s contacted the werewolf council and is reinstating the Hale Pack activity in the region, so the territory is protected by Supernatural Law again, and won’t be as vulnerable to attack. This throws Stiles for a loop, and thousands of questions come up, but Derek keeps talking, so Stiles shoves another bite in his mouth and just listens.

Derek tells him how he doesn’t know much about how the whole werewolf council thing works because his mom trained Laura for it, and not him, but he’s going to wing it.

Then his mood falls and he speaks about the reopened investigation into the fire. Stiles can tell it hurts to talk about, but he knows it’s essential if he wants justice for his family.

When the atmosphere gets too sad, Stiles stands to clear the counter and snatches the first moment of silence in half an hour to change things up. “At our wedding, you’re wearing the dress.”

The terrified look on Derek’s face, like one wrong step will brand him a cross-dresser, gives Stiles life. Stiles throws his head back laughing, and it’s only a few seconds before Derek trusts that Stiles is joking.

After the dishes are clean, and they waste fifteen minutes making out by the sink under the rising moon, Stiles pulls Derek’s hand toward the stairs. When they get to their room Derek pulls off his shirt, with one thing on his mind. 

Stiles turns to tell him to hold that thought but he’s cut off by the sight of two necklaces around Derek’s neck; the first is a tracking device courtesy of Chris and the second is the shark tooth necklace Stiles made a while ago. Stiles stares in awe.

Derek realizes that something else is going on and shifts awkwardly on the balls of his feet.

“You’re wearing it,” Stiles whispers.

Derek looks down, and catches up with a nod.

“Does it work?” Stiles asks. 

“I haven’t tried yet,” Derek admits.

Stiles nods and closes the distance. “Thank you.”

Derek smiles and kisses him softly.

Stiles gathers his thoughts and taps his unfairly firm chest. “I want to try something, and you can veto it, but I promise it won’t suck too bad.”

Derek follows Stiles to the floor where he has a circle set up with items at the ends of each axis. “What is it?” 

Stiles sits and points for Derek to sit opposite. “I want to try and bond our spirits. So we can feel each other like you and the pack do. I’m winging it, but I think I figured it out.”

Derek nods and settles.

Stiles winds a cord around both of their hands and sparks the cord before letting his magic flow into the items surrounding them. 

Derek remains silent while Stiles centers himself, and focuses on binding their spirits. 

When Stiles doesn’t feel anything change he opens his eyes as he complains quietly, “I can’t tell if this is working.”

Stiles freezes because he’s looking at himself, and the voice he just heard wasn’t his own.

His own face has wide eyes and doesn’t seem to be breathing.

“Fuck,” Stiles exhales, his heart hammering out of his chest, or more accurately, Derek’s chest.

“Stiles, what did you do?” Derek asks, panic bleeding into his voice.

Stiles can’t answer because he’s too thrown by talking to himself. He knows it’s Derek, but it looks and sounds like him, and it’s all very surreal.

“Nothing,” Stiles denies, “This is a dream. You’re dreaming. Don’t panic, Stiles has this completely under control. Yep, all going completely to plan. Nothing to worry about here.”

“Stiles,” Derek growls.

“Whoa!” Stiles throws a hand out, and wow, that feels weird. Derek’s arm is heavier, and he feels muscles coil across the body he doesn’t possess. “How can you sound just as irritated with  _ my  _ voice? This is too weird. Do I sound like that?”

“Stiles…” Derek’s eyes are clenched, and he seems ready to run away.

“I can fix this,” Stiles promises, reaching for his phone to call Wiki, but of-course he pulls out Derek’s phone. 

“Right,” Stiles grunts, leaning forward to dig in  _ his  _ body’s pocket and pull out his phone, ignoring Derek’s protests. 

Stiles calls Wiki, and it goes straight to voicemail. He barely gets out a panicked, “Hey,” when he realizes the voice he currently possesses, and immediately hangs up.

Derek hasn’t moved.

Stiles types out an email quickly, telling her he’s done something very bad, and while trying to bind spirits, he somehow recreated  _ Freaky Friday _ .

Stiles settles into Derek’s skin, and starts looking at his circle of items to try and determine what threw the wrench in the works. He tries to reverse the process, but gets nowhere. 

Half an hour passes, and Stiles is starting to freak out. When he looks up he sees Derek panicking as well. As quiet as he’s been, Derek knows that they are in a lot of trouble. 

Stiles reaches out a thick arm to grab Derek’s hand, his hand,  _ the hand in front of him _ . “I’m going to fix this.”

“How?!” His body screams back at him. “Peter is out there waiting for a moment to strike, and you couldn’t help yourself. You made it worse.”

“Hey!” Stiles argues, not used to feeling quite so useless, and angry that he always fucks things up. “You need to calm down.”

Derek flings his arms out and stands to walk around, the situation too much.

Stiles watches himself pace, and is hijacked by a deep desire to protect the slighter man. Stiles shakes the thought away. This is too weird.

Stiles stands to try and calm Derek. He gets a hand on both arms, and Derek fights back. “Derek, listen to me.”

“No!” Derek yells, shoving Stiles’ away. 

Stiles feels a jolt of electricity. He falls to the floor, and his body convulses a few times. 

When he looks up Derek is standing over him, not touching him, but holding his hands out like he wants to detach himself completely.

“Oh,” Stiles breathes from the floor, Derek’s voice raw from the shock.

“Stiles…” Derek whimpers above him, eyes wide with panic.

Stiles pulls himself to his feet and takes Derek’s hands. It takes little effort to hold Derek still, and Stiles suddenly understands just how strong Derek is. “Derek. Relax, you freaking out isn’t going to help.” Stiles feels small sparks shoot up his arms and knows that Derek’s hands are sparking with anxiety.

“Let go of me,” Derek pleads, trying to pull away, but Stiles won’t release him. “I’m hurting you. Let go!” Derek watches the muscles in Stiles’ arms flinch with each shock.

“No,” Stiles says, pulling Derek closer. “I can take it, and I’m not letting you do this alone.”

Derek shoves away, and only panics further when he realizes he’s lost his strength.

Stiles does his best to hold back any whimpers or signs of discomfort. “Look at me.”

Derek stills, breathing out of control.

“Deep breath,” Stiles tells him, lifting their hands between them. His arms only tense with each shock. “That’s it. Breathe with me.” Stiles coaches him. He knows what it’s like to lose control of his hands, and remembers quite a few fires. Stiles won’t let go because Derek doesn’t need the image of setting something in this house on fire.

“Stiles, I can’t-” Derek pants.

Stiles shushes him, holding his hands out of Derek’s range of vision. “Yes, you can. You can control a wolf, you can control this.”

Derek nods and takes a deep breath.

“Find your anchor. Breathe,” Stiles tells him, wishing desperately he never tried this in the first place.

Derek nods, and clenches his eyes closed.

The sparks start to fizzle out, and Stiles knows that Derek is regaining control. “Good. Good. There you go.” When the sparks cease, Stiles slowly opens his palms so Derek can see the pale, non-lethal hands before him. “You did it.” Stiles smiles, and it feels funny. Derek’s teeth are different than his, and slide along his lip strangely. He reaches a hand up, distracted, to poke at Derek’s front two teeth. Stiles looks up to see his own face staring at him with a bored expression. Stiles drops his hand and asks Derek in a cheeky voice, one he didn’t know Derek possessed, “So what did you think about?”

His own face stares back, and answers in monotone. “About all the different ways I’m going to kill you.”

Stiles gasps and grabs his chest. “Rude. I’m your mate, aren’t you like, unable to even  _ think  _ those things about me?”

Derek blinks and looks down at his hands. “Stiles, we have to fix this.”

Stiles knows how serious the situation is, but doesn’t see the point in getting overwrought. He may never get a chance to make Derek pick his nose again, so he goes to the bathroom to experiment in front of the mirror. There’s not much else to do until Wiki calls back.

Pleased by the image of Derek with a finger up his nose, Stiles turns to Derek to try and lighten the mood. Derek doesn’t smile and turns to look out the window.

Stiles drops his finger and goes to Derek, because he can’t find joy in silly things when Derek’s not okay. “Relax,” Stiles tells him. “Way worse things have happened. We’ll figure this out.”

Derek keeps his eyes on the moon. “I can’t feel it.”

“Feel what?” Stiles asks.

“Anything,” Derek admits. “I feel numb. Like I’m not even in your body, and just looking at you in mine.”

Stiles pokes himself in the arm, and feels it clear as day, as well as the air conditioning filtering overhead, and the pressure of the wind on the walls of the house. He can hear the animals outside come out of hiding, and smell things he can’t identify. 

“Maybe you just aren’t used to simple human senses, and it feels like nothing compared to this.” Stiles shrugs, coming to wrap Derek in a hug from behind, hoping he will feel  _ that _ .

“I don’t know how to live without my wolf,” Derek whispers, still looking up at the moon.

Stiles kisses his neck and it’s so weird, knowing he’s technically kissing his own neck, but needing to make Derek feel better and relax.

“I feel weak and tired and my throat hurts when I swallow,” Derek complains.

“That might just be because I’m still frail from this past week,” Stiles offers.

“But you’ve been acting like you’re fine.” Derek turns to look at him. 

“I am,” Stiles counters, “but I’m human, and I’m used to a little sore throat, and achy muscles. It’s like a cold. It’s not a big deal.”

“Why did you let me think you’re okay?” Derek asks. “You’re  _ clearly  _ not.”

“Am  _ so _ ,” Stiles argues, but it doesn’t stick because his nose finds his own hair, and he takes a deep breath on instinct. The smell alone relaxes every muscle in his body, and floods his mind with a sense of belonging. “Oh my God,” Stiles breathes out.

Derek chuckles in front of him. “I lose all my senses, and you gain more than you could ever understand.”

Stiles is just shy of dry humping Derek’s ass (ok so technically his own ass). It’s extremely difficult to distinguish where he begins and ends. “This is what it’s like for you?”

Derek nods.

“I feel like I could get off just smelling you,” Stiles moans, burying his nose in Derek’s skin. Stiles closes his eyes, and everything feels right. He is able to forget that the body he’s smelling is actually his, and allow his senses to ignite every nerve ending in his body. 

“It’s definitely possible,” Derek laughs below him, and the sound is music.

Stiles lines himself up with his own ass, and it feels right. He opens his eyes for a moment, and things get really confusing until he closes his eyes again, and is able to ignore the body swap, and only focus on his senses.

Derek reaches back, stilling his hips. “Stiles, this is weird. Doesn’t it feel like you’re… fucking yourself?”

Stiles gasps at how hard he is as he slides slowly against the cleft of Derek’s ass. He clears the fog enough to form a thought. “Just try closing your eyes. It’s not so confusing if you close your eyes.”

Derek does and after a minute he’s pressing back into Stiles. 

Stiles feels strong, and aware, and happy, and comfortable, and just so many things. 

Before anything really happens, Stiles’ phone rings. Stiles clears his throat and answers. “Wiki, hey. Did you get my email?”

“Who’s this?” She asks quickly.

Stiles blinks then slaps himself on the forehead, still holding onto Derek, and breathing him in. “It’s Stiles, did you read my email?”

There’s a moment of silence. “No, I just saw you called, and called you back as soon as I could. Let me read it.”

Stiles lets her, and rubs his free hand all over Derek, which he now recognises as a scent thing. Stiles is starting to really admire his friends, because if he had these senses, he would be dry humping Derek every second of every day.

“Stiles,” Wiki sighs. “What did you do? How did this even happen?”

Stiles answers, voice rough. “I was trying to bind my spirit to another so we could keep track of each other but something went wrong. Maybe it’s because I was trying to bind myself to a wolf? I sent you a list of everything I used and what I was mentally trying to accomplish.”

“I see that.” She breathes. “Have you tried to reverse it?”

“Yeah, that was the first thing I did.”

“How?” She asks. “If you’ve altered it in any way, then I need to know so I can help you reverse it. It’s like untangling a knot.”

“Oh!” Stiles exclaims. “ _ I  _ tried to reverse it, in this body, which doesn’t do magic, so we can probably safely assume that I didn’t do anything. What’s in the email, that’s everything I did.”

“Oh good.” She says. “Okay. I’m going to go over this, and then I will email you a step by step instruction for undoing. Whoever is in your body will need to do it, but they should only have to worry about sparking, because that was your primary binding agent, thank God.”

Stiles nods. “Sounds good, thanks a million.”

“Sure,” She groans, thinking of the work ahead of her, before hanging up.

Stiles rocks against Derek slightly. “See? It’s going to be okay.”

They work on Derek learning to control the spark for a few minutes so they can be ready to reverse. Stiles watches Derek in fascination and fights the urge to grab him and roll him onto the mattress. “Do you feel like rubbing yourself against  _ all  _ the pack?” Stiles asks.

Derek looks up from his hands, which have been flicking on and off for a few minutes. “No, just you.” 

Then it clicks, the senses are the wolf, yes. But the desire is different. Stiles tries to figure out where the difference lies, and his heart clenches when he understands. “Is this what having a mate feels like for you?”

Derek nods, crossing his arms. 

Stiles suddenly gets it, but before he can tell Derek, his phone chimes with an incoming email. Stiles opens it to find simple and exact details to reverse the binding, along with a promise that it will work.

Derek looks over hopefully.

“She figured it out. It should only take a minute to put us back into our own bodies,” Stiles whispers. 

Derek moves to sit back down. 

“Can we…” Stiles asks, afraid he already knows the answer, but needing so desperately to show Derek how much he loves him. 

“I can feel you, what you feel for me. I want you to feel me, too. I need you to know that I’m in this.” Stiles tries, and fails to make his thoughts clear.

Derek squints at him. 

“You said you feel numb, but to be honest sometimes the only thing that feels real to me is  _ us _ .” Stiles explains, knowing just how cliche’ he sounds, but the need to make Derek feel good is too strong. “Can I try to show you?”

“Stiles…it’s okay.” Derek shakes his head. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, I know you love me.”

“I won’t make you.” Stiles responds, stepping closer. “And it might just be the wolf, but I really want to make you feel good.”

A moment passes, where Derek’s eyes dance. Then he closes his eyes, relaxes and nods.

Stiles smiles. “Really? This isn’t going to scar you for life?”

Derek peaks open an eye. “Maybe blindfold me?” 

Stiles thinks about backing out, willing to forgo this pleasure if it will make Derek uncomfortable. But then Derek steps forward, eyes still closed, and reaches for Stiles.

Stiles pulls him in and Derek finds his mouth. His kiss is light and tentative, but only a minute later, Derek is pressing closer, and his heart starts to accelerate.

Stiles keeps his eyes firmly closed so as not to accidentally confuse the illusion, and explores Derek’s mouth, their stubble scraping together filling the silence. Stiles coils his arms around Derek and holds tight, engulfed in the smell of home and belonging.

Derek breaks the kiss suddenly, huffing with his forehead pressed to Stiles. “I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

Stiles laughs, the taste of Derek strong on his tongue. He’s desperate for more. “Yep.”

“Do you…?” Derek asks breathlessly.

“Feel like I’m going to pass out every time you kiss me?” Stiles asks, eyes closed, listening to Derek’s heart pound away.

Derek nods weakly against him, his hands tight in Stiles’ shirt.

“Yeah. Every time.” Stiles decides not to elaborate how Derek doesn’t even have to be kissing him. He can be doing laundry like earlier, and suddenly all the air leaves his lungs with the hope that this is forever.

Derek noses at Stiles, and Stiles closes the distance to get another taste. Derek tips his head back, and Stiles scrapes Derek’s scruff down his neck so he can feel the sparks Stiles lives for. Derek shivers, and sags against him. 

Stiles sucks a mark into his throat and an idea strikes him when he peeks an eye open to see the mark stay and not disappear in a blink like he’s used to. “It’s going to be weird looking at a hickie I gave myself, tomorrow.”

Derek laughs, and pushes him against a wall. 

Stiles realizes he had to step back for Derek to actually really move him. “How strong are you?” Stiles asks, stunned. He’s been so preoccupied with trying to calm Derek and make him feel better, that he hasn’t really gotten to see what it’s like to be a wolf. The most he did was pick Derek’s nose in the mirror. 

Derek finds Stiles’ neck and sucks his own mark. 

Stiles knows he’s watching it disappear, by the silence, and the way Derek is stock still. “Is that not the most annoying thing you’ve ever seen?” Stiles laughs.

“Yes,” Derek grunts, sucking another mark. When that one disappears too, he huffs an annoyed sound. “How does this not bother you? I could stare at the bruises on your skin for hours, and you never get to.” Derek’s voice tapers off at the end imagining never being able to admire his mark on the one he loves.

Stiles doesn’t want pity. This isn’t what this is about, and hickeys aren’t the end game here. “You make up for it plenty. Trust me.” Stiles bites Derek’s ear dragging him back to the moment.

Derek releases a guttural groan. “For example?”

Stiles thinks, and his favorite thing about sex with Derek is when he roughs him up. Stiles tries to quickly acquaint himself with Derek’s muscles and decides to just go for it. Stiles grabs Derek by the thighs and lifts him off the ground, around his waist, flips them around, and slams him into the wall. “Things like this,” Stiles smirks, pleased with this new development.

“Fuck,” Derek grunts. 

“Yeah.” Stiles grins, lining their cocks up and sliding slowly. He grips Derek’s thighs, holding them tight and in place. “Fuck, it’s like picking up a child,” Stiles muses. ”Not that I would fuck a baby - oh God, I just meant-”

“I know,” Derek groans. “But hold back a little, there are at least ten finger shaped bruises on your thighs right now.”

Stiles drops Derek immediately. “Oh my God, are you okay? I’m so sorry.”

Derek shakes his head, eyes still closed. “I’m used to pain, it’s okay.”

Stiles thinks back on the last hour and can recall at least five times he gripped Derek, and worries that he was hurting him this whole time. “Have I been…all night?”

Derek nods once. “It’s okay.”

Stiles gapes at Derek, and his eyes are open now, shattering the illusion. “Exactly how strong  _ are  _ you?”

He watches himself smile back. 

“I’m not kidding Derek, are you constantly holding back?” Stiles asks panicked.

“Relax,” Derek says. “It’s like breathing, I’ve been around humans my whole life. I know how to relax my strength.”

“This is crazy,” Stiles breathes.

Derek levels him with a glare. “We are currently taking up residence in each other’s bodies, and are attempting to have sex this way, and the  _ crazy  _ part is my strength?” 

“Wow, your sass is only amplified with my voice. Who knew. Everyone thinks I’m more sarcastic, but you are the sass queen I swear,” Stiles retorts with Derek’s dry timbre.

Derek rolls his eyes and pulls Stiles forward for another kiss. “Shut up.” 

Stiles melts into Derek, and it only takes a minute for them to resume where they left off. Stiles lifts Derek up gently, as though handling a porcelain doll. 

“You can use pressure. I’m not going to break.” Derek complains.

“I don’t know how much pressure is too much. How do I know?” Stiles responds, mildly panicked.

“Just…” Derek tries, before bringing his hands down to rest on Stiles’ on his thighs. “Follow my lead.”

Stiles lets himself add pressure with the press of Derek’s hands on his. Once he thinks he’s got it, he finds Derek’s mouth and tangles his tongue with his. 

It heats up and Stiles leans back, supporting Derek with his hips, to rip his shirt off. His eyes are open more and more, and it’s becoming less confusing as he adjusts to this body. Stiles sees his nipples and decides that is the next stop on  _ this  _ train. He drags Derek’s beard down his chest, and latches onto a nipple with tight teeth.

Derek cries out, and fingers tangle in his hair. 

“You still feel numb?” Stiles breathes against a wet nipple.

“No. No. Shit,” Derek gasps.

Stiles lifts Derek and carries him easily to the bed before settling between his legs and shifting them up the bed with one arm.

Derek’s thrusting up against Stiles, and Stiles notices a difference. Derek is demanding during sex, but never like  _ this _ . Never blindly thrusting up, panting, and wanton. Stiles has never seen Derek so debauched, and he can’t believe that it’s just the fact that it’s his body. 

Stiles slows things down, covering Derek’s skin with his own, and caressing every inch he can reach, that he knows sends sparks to his toes. 

Derek’s eyes roll back before closing. 

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks, wondering if this was a bad idea. He’s not ready to watch himself have a heart attack.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Derek pants. “I’ve just…”

Stiles brushes the hair from Derek’s face, and whispers over his chin. “If this is too much we can stop. I think it’s safe to say you get the point.”

“No!” Derek barks, “No, don’t you  _ dare  _ stop.”

“Okay.” Stiles nods, watching Derek squirm. “Just tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Derek tries to steady his breathing. “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

“So not numb,” Stiles confirms.

Derek shakes his head frantically. “I’ve never felt so  _ vulnerable… _ ”

Stiles caresses his head again. “It’s okay, I won't hurt you.”

“It’s not that.” Derek swallows. “I’ve never been human. I’ve never felt the effect of my strength.”

Stiles smiles. “That’s sort of why I wanted to try this. I now know that you could break any number of my bones with your bare hands, but when we’re like this?” Stiles thrusts forward, dragging their covered dicks across each other. “I feel safer here than anywhere else.”

Derek nods frantically and reaches for Stiles to drag him to his lips.

After admitting that sucking his own dick would be too weird, Stiles fucks Derek per his demand. Stiles planned to flip in the middle and straddle Derek so he could feel how perfect Derek’s body is for him, but with both of their heightened sensitivity, they both blow in minutes. 

After a small nap, they open Wiki’s email.

Derek follows the instructions easily, sparking when and where needed, and before they know it, they are back in their own skins.

Stiles looks around, adjusting to his human body, and finds himself missing Derek’s heightened senses. He feels like there are cotton balls in his ears, his muscles are heavy, his lungs hurt, and he can only hear their breathing and not the workings of the house around him. Stiles glances up to find Derek staring intently at him. 

“Sorry?” Stiles shrugs, worrying he’s made things worse. He shouldn’t have tried to bond their spirits when he literally knows nothing about magic, and making Derek fuck himself was definitely on the list of top ten things to never subject your significant other to.

Derek continues to stare at him, and Stiles wishes he could hear his heart, or something that would tell him what’s going on. Derek’s eyebrows aren’t communicating much.

“Derek, I’m so sorry. Maybe Wiki knows some kind of spell to wipe memory? Or suppress a memory maybe? I don’t know. I fucked up. I’m so sorry.” Stiles reaches for his phone and is caught by a powerful hand. Only he now understands how strong that hand really is.

“All I know is I want to stay here with you for as long as I possibly can,” Derek says firmly.

“What?” Stiles blinks. “Because as soon as we leave this room, you’re going to realize what a basket case I am; a general hazard to your health-”

Derek shakes his head sharply. “No.” Derek licks his lips before continuing, and Stiles finds himself doing the same. “That was… _ insane _ …but I don’t want to forget it.” Derek clarifies. “I needed that, I had no idea how…or that you…”

“I agree.” Stiles smiles, looking up to wide green eyes. “I may not be able to reciprocate the whole mate thing, but I hope you were able to see that I am as close as humans can get.”

Derek nods, a true smile spreading. “Let’s go to bed.”

Stiles nods, his muscles weak, and he really does feel like he’s coming down with a cold. 

Derek helps him up and to the bathroom to clean up for bed.

They fall asleep tangled together after another round, and Stiles feels an extreme sense of accomplishment, knowing he took care of Derek.

* * *

 

They sleep fitfully. Stiles is coughing and waking them intermittently. It had started as wheezy breathing the day before, but Stiles had assured Derek that it was nothing to worry about, and he’d be over the tickle in his throat soon. They’d forgotten about it in the excitement of changing bodies, but Stiles’ breathing isn’t getting better. A particularly violent bout of coughing jerks Derek awake and he turns his head to see something leaking from Stiles’ mouth. Derek wipes it away, and holds it to the moonlight. It’s dark, and tacky.

Stiles starts coughing again, and Derek lifts him so he doesn’t choke on whatever’s in his mouth. Did he bite his tongue?

Stiles’ head flops limply, and Derek shakes him, calling his name. Stiles doesn’t respond. 

Derek flips on the lamp. “Stiles? Stiles, wake up. Talk to me.” 

Stiles remains limp, and starts to choke. Derek bends him over the edge of the bed and Stiles remains unconscious as he empties his stomach onto the floor, and at Derek’s feet is a puddle of something dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnn...
> 
> Now listen to the songggg [Good to You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3y_tjLBqTY)
> 
> "Reader" pointed out how they've noticed that I don't make things easy for the characters in my fics... they had no idea how right they were...
> 
> Until tomorrow!
> 
> XO


	9. Step one, step two, step three; repeat.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for Derek and Stiles to decide if they trust Wiki or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the ninth day of Christmas I gave to my boo! Nine emissaries.
> 
> All of you who've enjoyed the magic world I've been setting up, should LOVE this chapter. ENJOY!
> 
> This chapter title comes from [Celebrity Status](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lY16T6AkhOg) by Marianas Trench.

On the day of the Blood Moon before the Alphas were scheduled to meet Stiles for the ritual, Peter delivered Erica and Boyd back to Derek’s sub station as promised. He still hadn’t figured out how to cover his absence from the ritual so as not to raise suspicion on either side until he knew which side came out on top.

He realized he could use Derek as a distraction when he found him ripping up the floorboards in their family home. 

At this point, Peter had realized that Stiles and Derek actually have feelings for each other, and if Derek was ripping up wood, then he definitely didn’t know about the ritual. 

As expected, Derek darted off into the trees and Derek’s panic and rage was enough to distract everyone from Peter’s absence. Peter crossed his fingers that Stiles made it out alive, or the vials in his pocket would be for nothing. 

While everyone was in the preserve, Peter snuck into Stiles’ room and searched for the answers he needed. He found Claudia’s journal, and learned that the ritual  _ is _ correct,  _ except  _ for the final step. 

_ The alpha has to consume the heart of the emissary. _

Peter trusted that the Hale pack would survive, and that the Alphas would be eliminated one way or another. Then come January, Peter would be able to perform his own ritual and carry on the Hale legacy.

* * *

* * *

 

“Derek? Derek! Look at me! I’m over here, I’m right here!” Stiles yells from behind Derek, where he’s looking down at Stiles’ unconscious body. “What is happening? I’m right here.” Stiles tries again, but Derek remains unaware.

Stiles steps back as his body starts to convulse and gasp for air. “Am I dying? Am I dead?” His voice is almost inaudible at the possibility. 

Derek lifts Stiles’ body with one arm, reaching for his phone with his other hand. “It’s going to be okay, Stiles. Stay with me.” Derek tries to sound sure, but Stiles can see him breaking apart at the seams.

“I know. I’m right here, I’m with you.” Stiles reaches out to caress Derek and ease his strain. His hand goes right through him. “Dammit,” Stiles hisses.

Derek holds the phone to his ear as he turns Stiles’ body so he doesn’t choke on his vomit. Once Derek has Stiles in the recovery position, he runs to the bathroom to grab towels, hitting the redial button frantically. Derek returns to drop one on the floor and wipes the substance from Stiles’ unconscious face. The real, awake Stiles stares at the puddle soaking into the towel on the floor; a sinister viscous liquid is staining it a darker color.

Derek redials over and over, his low growl rumbling through the room.

“Derek,” Stiles tries again, kneeling on the bed over his body, and looking for Derek’s eyes. “Derek, you have to get ahold of Deaton. Who are you calling?” 

Derek drops his phone, and Stiles sees that he was calling Deaton’s cell, and the clinic. 

“Okay, so he’s not answering,” Stiles groans. 

Derek’s eyes start to flash red, and he’s actually whimpering.

Stiles reaches out again on instinct and goes right through him again. “Fuck. Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

Derek remains unaware of Stiles’...whatever he is…is he a ghost? A soul? A patronus? Astral projection or something? Is this a dream? “Oh God, please be a dream,” Stiles’ voice shakes, and he looks around for any indication of this being a dream. 

Stiles walks around the room, paces really, trying to figure out what he can do. He can’t communicate, that’s clear now. This doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon, so most likely not a dream. Deaton isn’t answering, which is never a good sign. Derek is alone, and Stiles’ body is convulsing, and Stiles  _ whatever _ is floating around the room. 

Perfect.

He’s not actually floating. He feels real, but when he looks at his hands, they do have an iridescent shine to them. Looking down, he realizes he’s wearing nothing but superhero boxers. “Well, good thing no one can see me,” Stiles mutters. 

A blinking light grabs his attention and he looks over to see his phone flashing. Stiles rushes over to pick it up, but can’t get a grip on it. It’s like soap, and slips through his fingers before he can even lift it. Stiles looks closer and sees Wiki’s name pop up over and over again. 

Derek is still trying to wake Stiles, and Stiles wishes he knew how much time has been wasted. A glance at his phone tells him it’s 5:03 am, as Wiki calls again. It goes to voicemail, and Stiles sees that he has 32 missed calls. At this point, he’s sure Wiki has been trying to get through for hours, and he is dismayed to see how fast his battery is draining with each call that comes through.

“Derek, answer my phone,” Stiles tries calmly, hoping that if he focuses his words, Derek will hear him. “Derek, look over here. My phone is ringing, and Wiki can help. Derek, please.” Stiles feels his voice break, afraid that Derek is suffering some kind of mental break and will wait too long to do something.

Derek clings to Stiles, rocking him back and forth. “I don’t know how to help you. Tell me what to do.”

Stiles walks over, wanting nothing more than to wrap his own arms around him. “Call. Wiki,” Stiles tries again.

Derek jumps up, leaving Stiles on his side, and Stiles thinks maybe he finally heard him, but he’s digging in their drawers and throwing on sweats and a loose shirt. Derek brings clothes over to where Stiles’ body gasps for air.

Stiles stands back and watches Derek handle him with care, dressing him quickly.

“I’m getting you to a hospital,” Derek says, lifting Stiles up bridal style.

Stiles freezes at the sight of his head smushed against Derek’s chest, limbs swinging loosely.

Derek grabs his keys and wallet before running downstairs.

Stiles follows hurriedly, vainly trying to tell Derek that a hospital can’t help; this has to be magic. People don’t just start vomiting slime and project outside their own body overnight. 

Derek, of course, hears none of this, and Stiles pulls his hair as Derek opens the front door. 

“Lydia?” Derek asks suddenly, and Stiles has to crane his head around Derek to see that Lydia is standing on the porch with wide eyes and a fixed gaze. 

“Lydia?” Stiles echoes, walking around to stand beside them.

“Lydia?” Derek asks again.

Lydia blinks and her breathing comes in harsh. “Something’s wrong.”

Derek looks down at Stiles’ body with a ‘you think?’ expression, and Lydia finally sees him.

“What’s going on?” She asks, grabbing for Stiles and looking for a pulse. 

Derek shakes his head and heads toward the car. “I woke up to him choking, and I haven’t been able to wake him. He needs a hospital.”

Lydia remains on the porch, squeezing her eyes shut, sucking her lips as she thinks something through.

“Lydia?” Stiles asks. “You beautiful little genius…” Stiles doesn’t know what she’s thinking about, but she’s figuring something out, that’s for sure.

Stiles realizes that Lydia isn’t moving fast enough when he sees his body being loaded into the Camaro. 

“Lydia! Do something! Derek has to call Wiki!” Stiles screams. 

Her shoulders clench like she’s fighting something.

Derek opens the driver side door to climb in, and Stiles throws his arms out like he can shove Lydia physically to the car.

“Go!” 

She flips around, looking about with wild eyes.

“Did you…Did you just hear me? Can you hear me?” Stiles leans forward, and her face rids itself of emotion. “Lydia, I need you to answer me!” 

“Derek!” She calls, her feet finally moving. “Derek, wait!”

Derek stops and comes around the car, his eyes constantly darting back to Stiles’ body.

“I don’t think a hospital can help him,” she says.

“I can’t reach Deaton; what else do I do?” Derek asks, desperately.

Lydia looks around, and suddenly there is another slightly luminous body in the front yard. It falls down, but rights itself quickly.

“Is this Stiles’ house?” 

Stiles gets a better look and realizes it’s Wiki. “Wiki! Thank god!” Stiles shouts, running to her, hoping she can see him. Unfortunately, she looks straight through him. Great. He’s even being ignored by other projections.

Derek moves to shield Lydia from the ghostly stranger. “Who are you?”

“Is this Stiles’ house?” She repeats, her voice strong but worried.

Stiles squints at her. “What do you know?”

Derek asks his own question again. “Who are you?”

When Wiki doesn’t answer, Derek drags Lydia toward the car and Wiki sees Stiles in the front seat. “Oh, thank goodness,” she breathes, rushing over.

Derek, mistakenly protective, tries to hold her back, but she goes right through him to the car. “Who are you?!” Derek shouts, in mounting frustration.

Wiki ignores him, trying to get a look in Stiles’ mouth. “You’re Lydia, right?” She asks, looking to where Lydia is standing. 

Lydia nods. “Are you...?”

“Wiktoria, yes. Or Wiki. We spoke the other day with Stiles about the wolfsbane poisoning,” she clarifies. “I need you to turn on the interior light and help me get a look in his mouth.

Stiles can see Derek hovering nervously, looking as if at any moment he’s going to grab his body and run. 

Lydia pries open his mouth, and Wiki leans forward.

“Well?” Derek asks impatiently, as Stiles’ body starts to heave again.

Wiki leans back. “Stiles has been poisoned. But not medically. This has magic written all over it.” She turns to Derek. “You have to get him to my family. We can help him. We’d come to you, but Stiles never told me where you live.”

“How do I know if I can trust you?” Derek demands.

“You don’t, but if you don’t bring him to me, he will die by sunrise,” she growls. “I will explain everything once you get there but you need to get moving, because I have no idea where you are, and Stiles has less than two hours.”

Stiles panics, looking between his body, Lydia’s wide eyes, Wiki’s shimmering form, and Derek’s stubborn face. “Just do it, Derek!” Stiles yells.

Lydia flinches. “Derek, listen to her. Let’s go.” 

“I love you so much,” Stiles coos at Lydia. “You’re my favorite, and I love you.”

Wiki shares the relief, as she lets out a breath, and gives Lydia the address.  Lydia already has Google maps open and inputs the details immediately.. 

“We’ll be waiting. Just hurry.” With that, Wiki’s projection disappears.

Derek remains still, eyes darting around suspiciously. 

“We don’t have time for this, Derek,” Stiles grumbles, climbing into the back seat and ignoring the comatose body next to him. Unconsciousness doesn’t look good on him.

Lydia kicks Derek’s ass in gear, and they finally get on the road. 

Stiles can’t help staring at his slumped form. If not for the whole body swap incident earlier, this would really be freaking him out, but it’s not the first time he’s looked at himself today.

Derek races down back roads, which are mostly deserted this early in the morning.

“Derek, you’ll only be lucky for so long, you’re going to get pulled over. Slow down,” Stiles says from the back seat, fidgeting with his eyes darting around for a hidden squad car.

They come out of a clearing, and Stiles realizes that the old farmhouse he is usually able to see from here isn’t visible. The landscape ahead of them has turned to an inky nothing. His senses are fading as his body sinks further into unconsciousness.

“That can’t be good.” Stiles redirects his attention to Derek and Lydia, silent and tense in the front seats. 

Stiles knows exactly where to look for the police car waiting to catch the unwary drivers who speed on this stretch of road. He can see the bumper glinting gently in the moon’s pale glow. He knows that any delay in getting to Wiki’s family now could cost him his life, but is powerless to warn Derek. 

They pass, and just as Stiles expected, sirens and flashing blue lights fill the road behind them. Awesome.

“Lydia.” Stiles scoots forward, leaning over the console to look at her. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but Derek can’t pull over. Call my dad. Call. My. Dad.” Stiles bites his lip, hearing the sirens get closer.

“Don’t stop,” Lydia commands Derek.

Stiles nods; either she’s thinking the same thing he is, or she can actually hear him. Either way, they are on the same page.

“I know,” Derek growls, accelerating. “But I don’t think I can lose them. They will follow us right to Wiki’s address.”

Lydia bites her lip and nods.

“Call. My. Dad,” Stiles tries again.

Lydia pulls out her phone and Derek grabs it from her.

“You can’t call the Sheriff,” Derek tells her.

“We need his help!” She shouts.

The steering wheel creaks under Derek’s hands. “If he knows his son is hurt, he’ll lose his mind. He doesn’t understand…he’s not…we can’t call him.”

“Derek, give me my phone.” Lydia holds out her hand. “He’s known me since grade school. I can talk to him.”

Derek chews it over, looking behind them, and finally hands it over.

Stiles breathes a gust of relief. “Thank you.”

Lydia dials, and holds the phone to her ear. “Sheriff, it’s Lydia.”

Stiles tries to lean closer, but he can’t hear his dad.

“Yes, it’s Derek driving. I’m with him.” She pauses, looking over at Derek. “We will explain everything later, I promise, but we need you to call them off.”

Derek looks at her, his lips tight, expecting yet another problem to be dropped on his plate.

“I wouldn’t ask you to if it wasn’t a matter of life and death.” 

Derek looks back at Stiles body that’s wheezing with the effort to breathe.

“It’s going to be okay as long as we can get out of town as fast as possible. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I will tell you everything later.”

Stiles looks back and forth, biting his nails.

“Yes, sir. That’ll work. Thank you.” She tells him where they are going, and hangs up.

Stiles panics. “Why did you tell him where we are going?! He’s going to get in his stupid little car, and follow you!”

Derek voices the same.

Lydia blinks at him. “You’re a werewolf, weren’t you listening?”

“I can't focus on anything beside driving and listening to Stiles struggling to breathe right now.”

Lydia understands, and Stiles’ heart breaks. “He’s radioing the patrol cars to figure out who is behind us, and will have them escort us there. Once we are close enough they will turn back. They won’t know what is going on, just that they have to clear the way for us.”

Stiles frowns, why hadn’t he thought of that? It doesn’t matter because he couldn’t have told anyone anyway. Thankfully, Stiles’ dad is kind of awesome.

Stiles looks out the window as the squad car races around them. Derek falls in behind matching the officer’s speed. Stiles sees that his field of vision has narrowed as they draw closer to the empty horizon

Stiles loses the rest of the nightmare journey as his body starts to shut down. He jerks back into awareness when the car slams to a stop, dirt flying up around them. At some point, their police escort must have turned off, because the only lights are the car and the windows of the house they have arrived at. The next thing he knows, Lydia is holding his head against her chest and running her hands through his hair. 

“After we get through this, you’re cutting this mop off. That will be your payment for getting me into this,” Lydia whispers, as Derek rushes around the car to pull Stiles out.

Stiles laughs. “Just for that, I’m never cutting it. My braids will eventually rival yours.” 

She smirks at thin air, and helps Derek pull him out.

“You can totally hear me, and you know it,” Stiles grumbles following behind them. 

The front door of the unfamiliar house is flung open and three women meet them.

“Where’s Wiki?” Derek asks, instinctively holding Stiles’ body closer.

The oldest woman, with long gray blonde hair responds, “She’s resting, projecting herself to find you exhausted her.” 

Stiles finds himself rushing forward. “Is she okay?” Of course, no one hears him, and the woman steps closer to Derek, eyes on Stiles. 

“We need to hurry.” She looks up at the sky which is tinged with orange on the horizon.

Derek looks at Lydia, and sees that she is already walking toward the house. He follows, arms tight around his mate.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good, but I love you,” Stiles grumbles, wishing he could physically push his over protective boyfriend into the house.

When they get inside there’s an empty table with a sheet draped over it, and a small pillow at the head. Other emissaries are gathered at the bench and bookshelf, ready to help as needed.

“Lay him here,” the older woman instructs. She leans over Stiles and looks up to Derek, neck bared. “May I?” She asks, her hands ghosting over his face.

Derek takes a deep breath and nods. He and Lydia stand close together, grounding and comforting each other as Stiles’ fate moves out of their hands.

Someone moves forward, bringing  a small wooden bowl with leaves floating on the surface and stones lying on the bottom. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Derek asks, watching the older woman start to wipe the liquid over Stiles’ face and neck. She’s clearly in charge of the group and seems determined to save Stiles.

She opens his mouth, and clicks her tongue. “He’s been poisoned, we have to figure out what entered his system.” She looks up at Derek. “Wiki mentioned that you were all poisoned.”

“Yes, but he wasn’t affected. Stiles pulled the wolfsbane out of my pack.” Derek looks down at Stiles. “Was he unable to fight off the poison? He was sick for days… we thought he was getting better.”

“I was!” Stiles waves his arms. “I was better!” A room full of supernatural creatures, and Lydia, and no one can hear or see him. 

Stiles taps his foot and tries to think, but his brain is woolly. He loses track of the conversation. The next time he looks up, his shirt has been cut open and there are a number of items and ash designs across his pale skin. “What am I missing?” Stiles asks to absolutely no response.

Lydia tilts her head. “We’re missing something.”

The others look up at her, expecting an answer.

“I just…” She groans through clenched teeth. “There’s something…”

Stiles walks over, now convinced that on some level, he can communicate with her. Maybe she only gets a feeling from him or something, not words. Stiles starts waving his hands around her head, like a mystic would a crystal ball. “Think, Lydia. Think. What are we missing?” Stiles sticks his tongue out and thinks himself. He’s desperate here.

Then he freezes, staring blankly over her shoulder as one of the other emissaries blows out a candle across the room, and a stream of smoke floats to the ceiling.

“That’s it!” Stiles flings his arm, and Lydia flinches, her hair blowing over her shoulder. 

Her eyes, wide with fear, look his way but they don’t lock onto anything.

Stiles decides not to worry about that. He’s onto something. “Lydia. The smoke. The bomb. The pack was poisoned by inhalation. Inhalation. The Fire. Smoke. Bomb.” Stiles repeats these words over and over.

Lydia looks at the older woman working on Stiles. The others are careful to keep their distance and not come into contact with the body. “The pack was poisoned by inhalation.”

Derek looks down at her, his face open to anything that will help.

The older woman looks up to Lydia. 

“Inhalation, how?”

Lydia clears her throat. “There was a bomb and we believe they were poisoned by particles blown into the air with the explosion.”

The woman shakes her head, “It might not have been the bomb - burning roan oak could easily have the same effect.”

“Yes, but this was in one of our homes. We don’t leave werewolf poison lying around.” Lydia explains. “We know who did it, and he’s crafty. We are certain the poison was in the bomb.”

The woman tilts Stiles head and uses an open palm to pull toxins from his mouth. 

Stiles throws a fist in the air when the lead emissary nods to some of the others and they head for a bookshelf to pull down a few leather spines.

She looks back at Derek, “I can’t heal him, only keep him stable until we know what the poison is so we can draw it out.”

Derek gives her a curt nod, and Lydia holds his arm. 

Lydia leans forward, obviously concentrating on trying to hear something, and squeezes her eyes closed.

The woman continues. “We are looking through our books for herbs that are poisonous when inhaled after burning. Stiles isn’t suffering from simple aconite poisoning. I believe it was a smoke bomb, with a low burn incendiary to release as much gas as possible. It was probably leaking poison into the air for a while before you heard the bang. The explosion was a red herring; in the chaos and panic, you didn’t realize how much damage had already been done.”

“I knew the explosion was a distraction,” Stiles breathes. “You outdid yourself this time, old man. You got me.” Damn Peter and his plans within plans.

Lydia tilts her head. “So you think something else poisoned Stiles? Why didn’t his magic defuse it like it did with the aconite?”

The woman nods, her hands cupping around Stiles’ head on the table. 

Stiles watches his hair swirl up from the table like there’s a breeze. Everyone else’s hair is unmoving. He looks back at her hands and realizes she must be a Breath, an emissary who can manipulate air.

She continues speaking, her hands running along Stiles’ shoulders. “Yes, it would have been a slow working poison that went undetected. It took hold while Stiles was fighting off the large amount of aconite in his system. His magic was depleted neutralizing the aconite, and he was left unable to fight this.”

“Can you help him?” Derek asks, eyes shining.

The woman nods again. “I already am, I am sharing my magic with his body. It will keep him stable until we can identify the poison.”

Stiles watches Derek put all of his eggs in this one basket, and wishes he could reassure him he’s okay. 

“Stiles is very powerful.” The woman continues. “I don’t know how, or why, but since you carried him in, his power is…” She looks toward where Stiles is standing. “It’s everywhere.” 

“You can see me?” Stiles waves a hand but the woman’s eyes don’t focus on the movement. “Of course you can’t. I can only stand and watch. Got it.”

“If he’s that powerful, why can’t he fight the poison?” Lydia questions.

The lead emissary looks back at her, “Because his magic isn’t in his body right now.”

Derek falls a step back. “What?! How is that even possible?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you. All I can tell you is that his life force is not in the body in front of us, but it hasn’t gone far.”

Stiles scoffs. “Yeah, I’m right here.”

One of the younger boys rushes over from the bookshelf. “I think I found it.”

The woman turns to look at the book, and Stiles tries to read the page as well. “Water Hemlock?” Stiles asks. He’s never heard of it before.

“That clears up a lot. Thank you, Antoni,” she says, handing the book back. A group of girls at the side of the room read the page and start dropping different herbs in a mortar to grind. “His magic was unable to fight it off because it’s a water-based plant. The water snuffs out his spark. We are preparing an antidote now.”

Stiles lets out a sigh of relief, but it is short lived as he realizes that the darkness he’s noticed over the last few hours has drawn closer. “Lydia! Lydia! I need your help! Please, you’re the only one who can hear me.” Stiles stands in front of her, and her eyes drift. “Lydia, I don’t have much time. Something’s wrong.”

“Stiles is dying,” Lydia breathes. 

“What?!” Derek barks, grabbing her, then looking back at the woman who just promised he would be okay.

The woman looks at Lydia, some emotion that Stiles can’t identify dancing across her features. 

“Something’s wrong. He’s dying,” Lydia insists.

“I don’t know what you mean.” The woman responds reaching for the mortar. 

“I can’t explain, but I have a really bad feeling. Just hurry, trust me.”

The woman looks her up and down, and Derek scoots closer to the table. 

Derek reaches out to drag his fingers through Stiles’ hair. “Stay. Hold on a little longer.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, the darkness coming closer by the second. He stands at the head of the table, watching Derek try to contain his emotions. There is nothing to say; his life depends on how quickly Wiki’s family can work. He can’t do anything to help himself. He can only stand here and watch himself live or die. 

The woman scoops out the mixture and uses a leaf to spread it over his gums and tongue, smearing the remains over the ash pattern on his chest.

Stiles tastes the mixture, and as uncomfortable as it is, it’s actually a relief to know that he’s still tied to his body. 

The woman lights a white candle and drips wax on his chest. 

“What are you doing?” Derek asks, watching Stiles’ skin pink up around the white drips. 

She continues her movement. “I am giving the poison something to latch onto. The wax will change color when the poison starts to leave Stiles’ body.”

Stiles watches with fascination as each drop of wax turns a light mossy green. 

As each drop darkens, the woman peels it off and drops it into the mortar.

The new wax stops changing color, and Stiles looks up to find the darkness receding. “Oh, thank God.”

Lydia breathes a sigh of relief and adjusts her hair. “He’s going to be okay.”

Derek grabs Stiles’ hand where it lies on the table. He doesn’t say anything but Stiles knows he wants to.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Tell me you love me. Cry. Do whatever you want. I’m pretty sure we can trust these people now.” Stiles is restless with all the questions he wants to ask, but without a listening ear he can only wait. “And for the love of God, introduce yourselves.” Stiles sits down across the room, suddenly very tired. 

Lydia steps forward with a small smile. “I think…I think Stiles is disappointed in us.”

Stiles throws his head up, “I  _ knew  _ you could hear me!” 

Lydia tilts her head in his direction, her eyes falling over a small smile. She reaches out a hand, “I’m Lydia.”

The woman levels her a look before reaching out her own hand. “Sylwia.”

Lydia turns to Derek, “If you don’t introduce yourself, Stiles will make you pay when he wakes up.”

Derek looks around, “What?”

Lydia crossed her arms, “It’s your funeral.”

Derek furrows his brows before lifting his own hand. “Derek.” 

Sylwia smiles, shakes his hand and then turns back to Lydia as she removes the last of the wax from Stiles and covers him with a blanket. “You can feel him, can't you?”

Lydia nods. “It’s stronger sometimes more than others, and I can only catch a word or two, but I think so.” Lydia looks at Derek, whose eyes cannot get any bigger. 

“Or I’m going crazy. I don’t know.”

Sylwia shakes her head. “No, dear. It’s him. I told you that his magic was strong, and present in the room. I knew he was around, but I didn’t acknowledge it because it tends to distress the spirit. He would use all of his energy trying to communicate if he thought there was a possibility he would be heard.”

“Oh.” Lydia blinks. “Have I made things worse?”

“No,” Sylwia says happily. “His body has released the poison, and now it only needs rest. His spirit can return now, or he can come with us to the parlor while we talk. His power is still strong, and he can definitely stay with us if he likes. Either way, it will be a few hours before his body is able to wake.”

Stiles follows the group into a dim but welcoming room. It reminds Stiles of old lady living rooms in movies. 

They sit, Derek stiff and awkward with stress. 

Stiles looks at Lydia. “Tell Derek to put his eyebrows away.”

Lydia nudges Derek. “Relax.”

Derek huffs but leans back. Stiles sits on the other side of him, their arms passing through each other. Stiles wants to feel the warm comfort of Derek beside him more than anything, but he’ll settle for this. 

Sylwia speaks again, letting her eyes span the room. “Stiles, please don’t overexert yourself. As soon as you wake up, you can ask me all you like.”

Stiles crosses his arms, hating that he can’t get his answers now, but he knows that Lydia isn’t exactly his translator.

Sylwia asks Antoni to make some tea and to tell the others to go back to bed. After he walks away, she pulls her feet up under her, covering her lap with an afghan. “I’m sure you want to know how we knew Stiles was in trouble.” 

She takes a breath looking towards the closed door. “Wiki took it upon herself to bond her spirit with Stiles’ after the wolfsbane incident. ,She hated that she took so long to get back to him. She shouldn’t have done that without consent, and we severed the connection as soon as she got back from finding you tonight. If Stiles wishes to bind their spirits again, that is his choice.”

“How did she bind our spirits? What does that mean?” Stiles starts to worry that he can’t actually trust these people.

“All the binding does is allow the other to know when you are in trouble. She knew Stiles was in trouble tonight, and she found you so she could help,” Sylwia continues.

“That’s why she was calling,” Stiles muses. She knew he was in trouble.

“She’s told me how careful Stiles is with the information he shares. I want to take this opportunity to promise you, Derek, as his alpha, that we mean no harm. We want to help; it is written in our magic, that we protect others from harm. If you decide to trust us with the safety of your pack, we promise to do everything we can to help you whenever you need it.”

Derek nods, but his arms cross tighter. “I’ll need to talk it over with Stiles first. He decided to withhold information, and it’s his to release.”

It’s moments like this that prove to Stiles just how much faith and respect Derek has for him. Stiles starts a tally for how many kisses he plans to smother Derek with once he’s awake.

“Very well.” She smiles. “Until he is awake, I guess I can try to talk about broader topics.”

Stiles is relieved that she doesn’t try to push Lydia for his approval. His gut tells him to trust, to tell her everything and beg for help. His mind, on the other hand, is screaming ‘stranger danger.’

She spends the next hour telling Lydia and Derek all about Emissary Magic; limitations and powers. Stiles has already heard most of this from his email exchanges with Wiki. 

Derek has relaxed over the duration of the conversation and is asking his own questions now. “Forgive me, but I was raised to believe that every pack had an emissary, I’ve never heard of a family of emissaries without a pack.”

“We have a primary pack that we assist, but our region is relatively stable, so we aren’t needed often. We are registered with the supernatural council, and they know they can call on us at any time. They understand that we are stronger with all four corners, and can do more if we all work together.”

Stiles thinks about how Wiki told him she had never met a Spark before, meaning they don’t exactly have their fourth corner. “Oh, no no no. I already have enough on my plate. I am not committing myself to a coven or what-the-fuck-ever to be used. I freaking knew it.” Stiles taps his foot, ready to wake up and leave. He was suspicious that the these emissaries had allowed Wiki to befriend him with some ulterior motive in mind, and now it’s confirmed.

“I’m beginning to feel rather tired, I can have my daughter watch over Stiles if you two would like to get some rest as well?” Sylwia offers, standing up. “We can ready a guest room if you like.” 

Lydia is already leant over on the arm of the sofa, eyes drooping. “That would be nice, thank you,” she says gratefully.

Derek scoots forward to stand up too. “I’ll stay with Stiles, thank you.”

“Of course.” She tilts her head toward Derek before walking Lydia upstairs.

Stiles follows Derek back to the dining room, where his body is still resting under the blanket. 

Derek sits with one of Stiles’ hands in his and presses it to his lips. 

Stiles desperately wants to know what Derek’s thinking. He hopes Derek isn’t about to launch into one of his guilt spirals thinking he isn’t worthy of Stiles.

Derek keeps looking at the ceiling, obviously overhearing a conversation going on above their heads. 

“Right,” Stiles breathes. “We’re not really alone.”

After a while, Derek finally talks. “So you’ve been watching me this whole time.”

“Yup,” Stiles smirks.

“I’m sorry if…I disappointed you.”

“What?” 

“I’ve never dealt with something like this. I didn’t know if you would want to come here, but I’m sorry, we didn’t have another option.”

“Derek, just stop. Wait until I wake up, we can talk then,” Stiles begs.

Derek continues anyway, unaware of Stiles’ pleas. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” Derek adjusts the blanket over Stiles and gently brushes the hair from his face. 

Stiles wishes he could feel it. 

“I think I finally grasp how you felt last year, when you found me in the hospital. You tried to tell me, but I couldn’t understand because I didn’t die. But seeing you tonight…the color draining from your face…. I get it.”

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, remembering that night vividly.  “Well, you handled yourself better than I did. At least you didn’t punch anyone,” Stiles huffs, recalling how he had instinctively punched Scott when he said that Derek was dead.

“Only, you were able to save me,” Derek whispers. “I couldn’t save you. I was helpless, and you deserve so much better.”

“Derek.” Stiles leans forward, wishing he could make Derek hear him. “You did exactly as you should. You got me here. You kept me safe. You were there. You did exactly what you needed to do.”

“Come back to me,” Derek whispers again. 

Stiles lifts his head, looking around and wishing he could speed this up. He needs to hug Derek. Right now. Stiles’ eyes cross the doorway to find Wiki. 

She looks exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, and shoulders wrapped in another afghan. The longer she looks at Derek, the lower her shoulders drop.

Stiles looks between her and Derek trying to figure out why when Derek speaks again. 

“Five.” Derek drags his lips across Stiles’ knuckles. “I want five kids.”

Stiles drops his jaw. “Five? FIVE? Are you  _ kidding _ ? That’s way too many, we already have a house full of kids; why do you want to add five  _ more  _ poop machines?!”

Stiles looks over at Wiki to see if she thinks the number is as crazy as he does, but her eyes are wide, and not in the ‘yikes, kids are gross’ kind of way. Stiles steps closer to get a better look, and she pulls the blanket tighter around herself. 

Derek senses the movement and finally looks up. 

“I’m sorry!” Wiki rushes. “I can come back later.”

“Are you Wiki?” Derek asks.

She nods. 

“You look like you need rest,” Derek says softly.

She nods again. “I do, I just wanted to see how he was doing.”

Derek looks back down at Stiles. “He’s good. Your grandmother pulled the poison out, and now he’s resting.”

She furrows her brows. “Grandmother?”

Derek clarifies, “Sylwia?”

“That’s my mother,” she clarifies. 

“I’m so sorry,” Derek blushes, but Stiles doesn’t blame him. She looked at least seventy.

“It’s okay. It’s our magic. The more we use it, the more we age. It’s our life force.” She yawns.

Stiles looks closer and notices there are small lines around her eyes. When he met her at the shop, she looked barely eighteen and now she could pass as twenty. Stiles looks at his body on the table. Has he been ageing and not realizing it?

Derek looks at Stiles’ body too, probably looking for signs of accelerated ageing as well.

“I’ll give you some time alone with him. I should get back to bed anyway.” She yawns.

Stiles squints at her. Her eyes too awake for someone going back to sleep.

Derek nods, and thanks her for helping.

Stiles follows her out of the room, and just as he suspected, she goes to another room which is occupied by bookshelves, an old wooden desk, and Sylwia. 

“Mom, we need to talk about Stiles,” Wiki says, after closing the door quietly.

Her mom looks up, brows furrowed. “Careful, Stiles could be listening. We should wait until he wakes up.”

Wiki has a bundle of herbs lit, and is swirling the smoke around the room. “I’m sure he’s with his  _ boyfriend _ .” 

Stiles flinches. He never mentioned he was in a relationship, but why should this news upset her? 

“Oh, sweetie,” Her mom clucks, moving to hug her daughter.

“What?” Stiles asks.

Her mom strokes her head, “It’s okay.”

“Oh.” If Stiles was in his own skin, he’s sure it would be pink by now. 

Her mom continues. “He’s a spark, anyway. It’s better this way.”

“Why?” Stiles asks as he watches Wiki nod her head like the comment made sense.

“Boyfriend, huh?”

“Yeah. An  _ alpha _ boyfriend,” Wiki emphasises.

Her mom walks back around the desk, and Wiki sits on a chair in front of it. “That explains a lot actually.”

“Do you think that’s why he’s so powerful?” Wiki asks.

Her mom twists her head. “Maybe.”

Stiles laughs, “No, you can actually thank five  _ other  _ alphas for that.”

“I’m worried about him,” Wiki whispers. “What if-”

Her mother waves her hand, cutting her off. “No. It’s going to be fine. We will continue to keep an eye on him, and we will wait until he wakes up and I officially talk to him, before we start passing judgement.”

“Judgement!?” Stiles barks, “Did I just walk into a house of homophobes?” 

“Regardless, the otherworlds have made their position clear: we need to help him. There is a serious imbalance here and the otherworlds want us to help him right things.”

Wiki leans forward, arms still wrapped in the afghan. “What if he doesn’t trust us? Sure, the otherworlds told us to help, but he has to  _ let us _ .”

“He will. He’ll understand that we aren’t dangerous, we are just trying to help.”

Wiki nods and puts out the bundle of herbs before heading for bed.

Stiles follows her to make sure she’s going upstairs, checking  on Derek who’s still sitting next to his body and talking quietly. Stiles wants to stay and listen, but he needs to keep an eye on Sylwia.

Sylwia is still at her desk when he gets back to her office, leaving a message on her phone. “It’s not like you to not answer. Call me back so I know you’re okay.”

Stiles wonders who she called, but she places her phone face down on the desk so he can’t see the screen. Stiles crosses his arms and takes the opportunity to look around the room. 

There are dozens of books that Stiles would die to get his hands on, and trinkets that he’s sure are more than just decoration. 

He thinks about the conversation he overheard. He doesn’t think they are a homophobic anymore, that was just his automatic response to hearing the word judgement right after Wiki admitted she  had a crush on him. Maybe they are just as unsure about trusting him as he is them? 

Stiles thinks about how they have referred to the strength of his power more than once tonight and how they seem to find him worthy of their concern. He does actually have the power of five alphas inside him, but he’s not telling them that. Stiles hopes they aren’t just trying to get on his good side because they want to use him to their own advantage.

Regardless, they said that the otherworlds have directed them to help him and his pack. Meaning that Stiles’ best shot at solving the whole Peter situation is to trust them. He realizes he’s a hypocrite because he’s willing to accept their help, but hesitant to help them in return.

He’s just being cautious. He’s new to this world, and knows it would be easy to take advantage of him. It’s the main plot in hundreds of Hollywood films. He decides to play it safe and not let his guard down. He will let them help with the Peter situation, but if they ask for his help, he will politely decline and judge all future relations on how they respond to his denial.

Stiles decides he should probably talk to Deaton when they get back. Because Wiki gave him more information than Deaton’s vague ass ever did, it has been a while since Stiles has sought him out. However, Deaton was the one who suggested that he visit the apothecary shop, so maybe he knows something about the family.

Stiles slips through the closed door undetected and checks back to see how his body looks. He’s afraid of returning too soon and losing hours that could be better spent snooping.

Derek is still sitting there talking. “-I almost killed him.”

Stiles blinks looking around, “Woah! What’s with the violent talk?”

Dere’s shoulders shake. “I was sure the paneling in the hall was going to need to be replaced, because the moisture had soaked in.”

“Are you  _ laughing _ ?” Stiles asks, smiling himself at the two teeth poking out of the front of Derek’s mouth. 

“If you had seen his face, I’m sure you would still be laughing.” Derek covers his mouth. “I came downstairs and rounded the banister, and he was standing there in the middle of a mountain of foam.”

Stiles realizes he’s talking about the time Isaac used the wrong detergent in the washing machine and lets himself laugh at the image of Isaac being caught in a hall of bubbles in his alpha's house.

Stiles looks down at his body, which has returned to its normal skin tone and breathing normally. He’s been putting off trying to get back in his body because he’s afraid he won’t be able to. But if he never tries, he’ll never wake up.

“Okay. I can do this.” He rubs his hands together and steps up onto the table, slipping beneath his skin. The trick will be sticking. “See you soon,” Stiles says to Derek, who’s still holding his hand. 

* * *

 

Stiles wakes up to Derek’s head on his stomach. Derek hadn’t been asleep a moment ago, so Stiles must have drifted off after he re-entered his body.

He stretches the arm that isn’t trapped beneath Derek and yawns.

Derek’s head pops up with bleary eyes. “Hey.”

Stiles smiles, “Hey.”

“How are you feeling?” Derek asks, rubbing his eyes and shifting closer.

“Better.” Stiles smiles, rolling to his side to face Derek. “Today sucked.” 

Derek stifles a laugh. “How soon until you can make the trip home?”

Stiles sighs at the thought of his own bed, that smells of nothing but them. “I feel fine, better than I have in days, but I want to stay and ask some questions.”

Derek nods. “Sure.”

Stiles reaches out to poke Derek’s chest. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Derek frowns.

“Saving me,” Stiles tells him.

Derek shakes his head. “I didn’t, it was them, I just…”

Stiles sits up, dropping his legs off the side of the table, and looking at Derek. “No, you saved me. You were there the second things got bad, and you did everything you could. You got me here. Even though everything in you was screaming that you couldn’t trust them, you brought me here.” Stiles pauses. “ _ You _ saved me.”

Derek drops his head. “I felt so helpless”

“But you still saved me.”

Stiles starts to slip off the table with the intention of dropping into Derek’s lap, when someone clears their throat in the doorway. Stiles turns to see Wiki is standing there, sans afghan. 

“You’re awake!” She smiles.

Stiles smiles back at her. “Thanks to you guys.”

She blushes and looks away, “Come on, Mom is waiting in the parlor, she expects you to have a lot of questions.”

“She’s right about that,” Stiles laughs, standing up. He goes to follow her, but Derek remains seated. Stiles turns to him and waves him over. “Come on, we’ll go home soon.”

* * *

 

Having eaten his weight in finger sandwiches and tea, Stiles sits back, cushioning himself against Derek on the small sofa. Stiles figures that since they already know they’re dating, there’s no point in pretending anything else. “Thank you, for helping me.” Stiles says finally.

Sylwia curls back into her position from early morning, “Of course, we’re happy to help. That’s what we do. Our ancestors in the otherworlds have instructed us to help you with something else, though. A threat you’re facing?”

Stiles plays dumb, like he didn’t listen into their conversation. “If they told you to help, then shouldn’t you know what it is?”

Sylwia clarifies. “They’ve only told us than another emissary nearby would need our help, that he was alone.”

“How do you know it’s me?” Stiles counters.

She smiles. “We don’t, but according to Wiki you have been in a little bit of trouble, even if you haven’t given her the details.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, well…”

“We can’t force you to let us help, but the offer stands.”

Stiles looks around and decides to trust his gut. “Have you heard of a ritual that requires an alpha to eat an emissary’s heart to gain his full wolf shift?”

“Oh,” Sylwia gasps. 

Stiles nods grimly, “Yeah, oh.”

Wiki looks between them. “What is he talking about?”

Sylwia straightens in her spot, but somehow remains at ease. “It’s one of the forbidden rituals of our ancestors. An alpha has to drink the blood of an emissary for the five days leading up to a Blood Moon, and then consume the same emissary’s heart under the highest point of the moon.”

“What?” She gasps, looking at Stiles.

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah. It’s been fun.”

“Oh my gosh!” She breaths, aghast. She sneaks a look at Derek’s face and swallows nervously. 

Stiles waves her off. “It’s not Derek, oh my God. He’s learning his shift the right way, we’ve been working on it.”

Derek shuffles under him, and Stiles realizes he probably shouldn’t have openly admitted that Derek has not mastered his full shift to a group of strangers that he still doesn’t trust.

Sylwia skims past it, recognising that this is the key to many of her questions. “This fills in a lot of holes we have. The ancestors said that someone had lost their right to their power, and we needed to help rid them of it.”

Stiles realizes that might have been some of their unease earlier. They must have thought  _ he  _ was  the one who lost the right. Stiles decides to trust them with this.

They spend the next fifteen minutes going over the details and setting a plan. They bind Stiles’ spirit with Wiki’s as a precaution against Peter trying anything before the Blood Moon. Stiles gives them his address and the most likely coordinates in the reserve for the ritual. 

They plan to come together as soon as the moon is at its peak to contain Peter. They will pull the power from him, and from then on Peter will be immune to the bite or any other form of magic.

Stiles is so relieved at the idea of only having to handle a human Peter, that he curls closer to Derek. Wishing they were alone so they could really talk about life after.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, Stiles. You’re welcome to start asking.” Sylwia looks over at Derek. “I’m sure you would like to get home soon.”

Stiles nods and looks around. He had so many questions, but now he can’t seem to think of them because he’s finally able to stop worrying about Peter. He catches a glimpse of a book shelf. “Right, okay. How do I find spells?”

Sylwia laughs, “You won’t. There are few, but only like the ritual you already know. An emissary can do anything they put their mind to. We don’t need spells or words to make things happen.”

“Then why do things go wrong?” Stiles squints, because he can list his successes on his fingers, but his failures could fill a journal.

“What do you mean?”

“For example,” Stiles starts. “I cannot tell you how many things I have set on fire, I literally had to make my house fire retardant.” 

Sylwia exchanges a glance with Wiki, before smiling back at Stiles. “That’s only because you came into your magic without guidance, and didn’t know how to direct it. You were probably unsure of yourself, and might have been putting too much emphasis on your spell or artefacts, and not your actual magic.”

“Oh.” Stiles looks over at Derek, “Sorry.”

Derek shakes his head with a barely there smile.

Stiles thinks of other things that haven’t always worked for him. “Traveling. I can only make a successful journey half the time, and I can’t find certain people.”

“That probably goes back to you not trusting your magic, but as for finding people - as I’m sure you’ve realized, it helps if they are looking for you, or open to you finding them. If they aren’t open to your visit it can be tricky.” 

This confirms for Stiles that his mom just doesn’t want to find him. “Is there a chance that some of us don’t end up over there? I mean is there another afterlife or something?”

“If you lose your magic, then you go where the rest of humanity goes. But good or bad, if you die with magic, you go to the otherworlds so your magic can feed future generations.”

“Right.” Stiles nods. He looks around for inspiration for another question. “What about protection spells? When I was trying to set up wards for our home, I kept locking the pack out. If I knew what I was trying to do, why wouldn’t it have worked the first time?”

Sylwia looks at Wiki before answering. “I understand that you have been struggling with your magic for awhile. If you were hiding your struggle from your pack, then you indirectly locked them out as well, as a way to keep them at a distance.”

Stiles looks at Derek again. “Sorry.” 

Derek rubs his arm, accepting his apology.

“If emissaries can do anything with just their mind, then why do we use crystals and stuff?”

Sylwia grins, “They can be like training wheels. They direct your magic, and can give you something tangible, something you can see and believe.”

Stiles sits up, rubbing his hands together. “Okay, all of this is really helpful, and filling in a lot of gaps for me, so thank you. But last night I was trying to bind Derek and I so we would know when the other was in trouble, and we somehow switched bodies.” Stiles continues because Wiki already knew this much. “I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and used crystals that I was sure of, but it didn’t work. You have just told me that the items don’t matter. It just matters that I know what I’m doing. And when I got ahold of Wiki she made it sound like there was a very specific way to undo it. So?” Stiles waves his arms, waiting for an explanation that makes sense.

Wiki clears her throat and answers the last part of his question first, “I had to make Derek feel like he could do it. He needed a concrete ritual to perform. He’s not an emissary, and wouldn’t have trusted himself to reverse it. Believing that the steps were key, he was able to make it happen with his own faith.”

“That…” Stiles starts. “Makes perfect sense.” 

Derek ducks his head. “But that doesn’t answer why the binding switched our bodies.”

Sylwia answers. “Binding is fairly simple. It would not have required half the effort you put into it.” She licks her lips. “If I may pry, are you two… Derek, is Stiles your mate?”

Stiles does his best impression of a statue. If he doesn’t move then they can’t read him for an answer, right?

Derek nods beside him, his arm coming around tighter.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it just explains why that happened.” She looks back at Stiles. “You two are already bonded, so when you tried the only thing you could do to bind you any closer was to become one. The fastest way to do that is swap forms.”

Stiles runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “But I’m not a wolf, I don’t have the whole mate thing on my side.”

“You do.” She smiles. “It doesn’t feel the same, but Derek is your mate as well. Your magic has claimed him.”

Stiles looks over at Derek, who thankfully looks just as confused as him. Stiles thinks about it a little more. Ever since Derek had recognised that they were mates neither of them have really been in true danger. Under a lot of stress, yes, but not in life-threatening situations. The bond has never been put to the test. 

Stiles moves on to another question, noticing that the sun is setting. “You mentioned earlier, while I was…you know.” Stiles flutters a hand in the air. “You mentioned that our magic is our lifeline, and that it ages you. I’ve been practicing day and night for a year, and I still look my age.” Stiles glances at Wiki who’s clearly aged since he met her.

“A year of nonstop practice should have aged you at least five years, possibly ten. Are you sure you haven’t aged?” Sylwia asks.

Stiles looks down at himself. “How old do I look to you?”

“Barely nineteen,” Wiki answers.

“Right.” Stiles crosses his arms.

Sylwia refills her tea cup. “You are unusually powerful, maybe you will age slower. But you should have still aged a couple years.”

Derek clears his throat. “You’ve aged.”

“What?” Stiles flips on him. “No I haven’t.”

“You’ve always looked ridiculously young for your age. You complained about people thinking you were twelve constantly.”

“I didn’t actually look twelve,” Stiles grumbles.

Derek grins, “But you always looked younger than the rest of your class. Maybe this past year, you just caught you up with everyone else.”

Stiles opens his mouth to argue, but freezes. 

Sylwia comes back in, “You should age slowly, regardless of your power, because you are a part of a pack, and your magic wants to stay with them as long as it can. You feed off of them.”

Stiles looks at Derek quickly. “Is that bad?”

Sylwia shakes her head. “No, it’s the same concept of an alpha being stronger with a pack. You share your power. Trust me, a pack with an emissary is ideal.”

Stiles nods, filing this away to think about later.

“You shouldn’t have to worry about draining your magic because you already have four times the magic of an ordinary emissary-”

Stiles holds his breath. Can she really feel an exact amount? Did he run through the entirety of one of the alphas’ power in just one year?

“You’re part of a pack, and you’ve found your mate.” She smiles at the two of them still sitting together on the couch. “You should be fine. Now that you understand how your magic works, you shouldn’t have to waste so much of it through practice. Think of your magic as a tank of gas. Eventually, it will drain, but if you are careful with how much you use, you can extend your life significantly.”

Stiles nods, following. So he should just stop doing magic. Got it. “Wait, things like my wards on the house, do they continue to drain me as long as they remain up?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “You used crystals and talismans, correct?”

Stiles nods.

“You used the magical properties of the items, and directed them to do what you wanted them to. They will continue to hold for a long time. They will eventually lose their properties, but you can check them.” She looks to Wiki who quickly hops up to grab a crystal at the edge of the room.

Wiki holds the crystal in her palm, and a small mist forms around it. Stiles remembers from the day he met her, she’s a Splash. The crystal starts to glow from the center out, almost filling the entire stone. “This one is still full.” She smiles, and then pulls a crystal from a cord around her neck. She holds it in her other palm, mist rising around it. This one glows starting in the center but fades halfway to the surface. “This one has another year left in it.”

“That is so cool,” Stiles breathes, leaning forward to get a better look.

Sylwia speaks up again, “You asked earlier why we use different items, and the reasons I gave were true, but I should have also mentioned this.” She points at Wiki’s hand. “You use your spark to activate the magic in the item, and then the item does the magic for you. You can extend the life of your powers by using the many tools available in the natural world.”

“But don’t I drain my magic by sparking everything?”

Wiki shakes her head. “No, think of your spark like a sprint down a hall. It’s relatively no effort, and after a night's rest you’re back to normal. It’s things that rely on your magic manifesting something from the ground up that drains you.”

Stiles looks at the lines around her eyes. “Like when you found me last night.”

She looks down. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry my phone was on silent,” Stiles whispers. She lost some of her life, and it’s his fault. She was just trying to help him.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad I was able to find you.” She smiles.

“Me too.” Stiles grins back.

After that they talk about inconsequential things until it’s time to wake Lydia and head home.

They exchange pleasantries and head out to the car. Stiles only makes it to the end of the driveway before he starts hounding Lydia. “So you  _ could  _ hear me.”

Lydia purses her lips, eyes darting away as she considers withholding information to make him squirm.

“I knew you could hear me.” Stiles snaps. “What? You couldn’t nod at me, or wave or I don’t know, say ‘Hey, you’re not alone.’?”

“I wasn’t sure.” She sighs. “You remember me telling you about the feelings I get?”

Stiles thinks back and remembers a short conversation back in January about her bad feeling. 

“I’ve been having this feeling since before your dad’s house, and it only got worse. I would wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of you gasping, but you were always okay… so I convinced myself I was just crazy.”

Stiles reaches back to her. “You’re not crazy.”

“Thank you.” She grins. “I wasn’t sure I was actually hearing you this morning, and I didn’t want to find out I was talking to myself later, so…”

“Right.” Stiles smacks his lips. 

She shakes her head. “At first I couldn’t hear you, I just had these feelings, like you were close, or anxious, or scared. After we got to the house, I started getting real words here and there. Enough to kind of understand what you were trying to say. By the end of the night, I could almost hear full sentences.”

“That’s awesome.” Stiles smiles.

“No, it’s not.” She shakes her head. “How was that even possible?”

“Maybe you're psychic?” Stiles offers, already thinking about how awesome that would be.

“I’m not psychic.” She crosses her arms, already dismissing him and looking out the window. 

“Well, you’re something.” Stiles waits a moment to see that she’s done with the conversation, and twists himself back to look at Derek, and think about all that had happened in the last ten hours, and how they can finally relax because they have a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another massive thank you to my Betas [Elise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GrangerPeavon/pseuds/GrangerPeavon) and [Eustilly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eustilly/pseuds/eustilly). BUT A MASSIVE SHOUT OUT TO [KRIST](http://notvirginawoolf.tumblr.com/) she has covered my work in marks, and suggestions, and the only reason it's so pretty is because of her, tbh. She's trying to finish chapter 10, but won't be able to finish chapter 11 & 12 by my deadline, so you all might notice a quality change, lmao. 
> 
> So there you have an official introduction to Emissary Practice! This is just the tip of the iceberg, as the third installment of this series will focus on Emissary lore. I'm so friggin excited. Are you excited? I'm excited. :D


	10. Fast words make it easier on me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to try and salvage what's left of the Stilinski household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the tenth day of Christmas I gave to my boo! Nothing I gave her nothing because I landed myself with pneumonia and idk what life is anymore.
> 
> This chapter title comes from Perfect by Marianas Trench.

Peter seriously underestimated Stiles. 

Stiles played the Alphas, Peter, and his own pack up until his plan came to completion. Stiles managed to twist the ritual not only in a way that prevented the Alphas from gaining their shift, but also  _ trapping _ them in wolf form, and stealing their power entirely.

Peter  _ seriously underestimated Stiles. _

Thankfully, Peter was able to spend six months preparing for his own ritual. The most important thing he had going for him was the fact that Stiles and the pack weren’t expecting him. He just had to make sure Stiles was vulnerable on the night of the Blood Moon so he could capture him.

Confident in his plan, he consumed the vials of blood he’d kept and just hours before the Blood Moon he set an electrical fire at the hospital that he knew Derek’s pack couldn’t resist. He planned to come in and grab Stiles while the others were distracted by a world of flame. Only, Stiles wasn’t there.

Peter made a quick round of all the places Stiles could be and unfortunately found him behind Deaton’s protection.

Peter wasn’t sure it it was coincidence, and he hadn’t come all that way for nothing, so he made his presence known. He felt Stiles out to see if he had any true idea why he was there.

Stiles had picked up a few new talents since he came into the world of Werewolves, and one of them was monitoring his heart rate. The problem was that he managed it  _ too  _ well. It remained even as he lied his way through things, but it remained just as steady when making a joke, or expressing any form of stress where a careless heart would uptick. 

Stiles was lying.

Stiles knew Peter was there for him.

He knew that Peter was coming.

Peter played along for a little longer, admiring the boy’s efforts, before finally calling Stiles’ bluff.

Peter didn’t let this put him off though, there would be another Blood Moon, and another after that. 

As long as Stiles was alive, Peter had opportunity to complete the ritual and take what was rightfully his.

* * *

* * *

 

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” Stiles calls as he comes through the bedroom door.

Derek stretches an arm out to Stiles’ side of the bed with a surprised grunt.He hadn’t even realized that Stiles got up. 

“Up and at em, sunshine!” Stiles continues, hitting the foot of the bed excitedly.

Derek grumbles into the pillow he’s mashed into. 

“Sorry, I didn’t get that.” 

Derek grumbles again. He’s not really saying anything, just letting Stiles know he’s attempting to drag himself from sleep.

Stiles heads to the bathroom, and Derek lets himself doze off. Stiles is okay, so clearly nothing urgent has happened, and they finally have a plan for Peter. Derek has earned a day to sleep in.

The shower turns on, and Stiles returns to the room to crawl over Derek and plaster his warm skin to Derek’s bare back. Stiles’ hands rub across his skin until his hands tangle with Derek’s in the pillow. “Are you awake yet?” Stiles whispers breathily into Derek’s ear, slightly shifting his hips along the line of Derek’s ass.

Derek moans below him, lifting his ass to urge Stiles on.

“Ah ah…” Stiles teases, lifting his own hips away. “You gotta get up if you want all this.”

Derek drops his hips with a huff.

Stiles laughs, and strokes his skin, peppering small kisses across his shoulder blades while he rattles off the details of his morning. “I woke up like three hours ago and called my dad. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him since I was poisoned by the wolfsbane. He told me that you’ve been  giving him regular updates.” 

Derek can feel Stiles smiling against his skin. Derek nods, thinking about how he  _ didn’t  _ call him yesterday, which he should probably apologize for. “I didn’t call him yesterday, I was too…”

Stiles noses at his hairline. “I know, I think the fact that he finally heard my voice, has you forgiven. I told him it wasn’t your fault and that I would explain more later today when I see him.”

This drags Derek the rest of the way out of his slumber. “Is he coming over?”

“No, actually.” Stiles sits up, still straddling Derek, and works his long, strong fingers into Derek’s back. “We are meeting at Melissa’s for brunch, everyone else is already getting ready. Allison and Scott have gone to buy groceries and help Melissa get everything ready.”

Derek rolls over, making Stiles laugh as he’s jostled around until he finds himself planted on top of Derek’s very noticeable hard-on.

Stiles continues as if he’s innocently unaware of what his teasing caused. “I got ahold of the fire marshal too, and they have cleared the house for us to finally go back in and see what we can salvage. I don’t want my dad to do that by himself, so…”

Derek hums, his eyes still heavy, and his palms pressed against the bare skin of Stiles’ thighs under his loose boxers. “You want me there too.”

Stiles twists his head, lips searching for a way to twist the truth enough to make Derek think it was his idea. Derek isn’t dumb, he knows what Stiles is doing. “If you have other things going on, you don’t have to, but I will probably spend most of my day there working.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “You know I’d help, you don’t have to try and manipulate me.”

Stiles drops his jaw, “I wasn’t!”

“You were.” Derek grins, reaching up and pulling Stiles down for a kiss. “We’ll all help.”

Stiles smiles against him before rolling off. “Alright, let’s get showered then.”

Derek stretches, not ready to get up. 

“If you hurry, we’ll have enough time.”

“For what?” Derek asks, still stretching.

Stiles turns at the bathroom door, dropping his boxers to reveal two toned globes. “For me to blow you.” Stiles winks, before slipping behind the door.

Derek is out of bed and in the bathroom before Stiles has both feet in the tub. This causes Stiles to throw his head back in laughter, and the sound warms something inside of Derek that’s been cold for far too long.

* * *

After a few desperate things are taken care of, Stiles talks all the way through their shower, getting dressed, and is still speaking as they head out to the car. Stiles’ care fee chatter is music to Derek’s ears. 

Over the last 12 month, Stiles had gradually lapsed into uneasy silences or carefully chosen words, wanting to hide his supposed weaknesses and maintain the facade of being in control so as not to worry the pack. Derek is more than happy to have this Stiles back. Even if only for a day.

Stiles is relieved to finally have a plan for Peter, and the fact that his dad finally knows about the pack and his magic. Stiles doesn’t have to worry about hiding the truth from  him anymore, and he’s excited to finally be honest with his father.

Derek helps Stiles carry out cleaning supplies and the items the need to create protection wards for Melissa’s and John’s house to Stiles’ jeep. Stiles can’t remember the last time he drove his baby.

Derek stays close to Stiles, but not out of concern something might happen. He stays close because Derek has always been put at ease by Stiles’ carefree moods, and it’s been a long year without one. Derek closes his eyes in the passenger seat and takes a deep breath of Stiles, and promises himself that he will make this last.

He doesn’t mean their relationship, he means this optimistic outlook. He found out last night that Stiles’ magic has mated him back. Even if Stiles doesn’t understand how that works, Derek is finally allowing himself to trust Stiles’ promises of never leaving.

He doesn’t know what he can personally do to keep it going, but as long as Stiles can keep his momentum, Derek will do his best not to ruin it, or disappoint him.

When they pull up to Scott’s house, there are already four cars in the driveway so they decide to drive down to his dad’s house to park. It’s only a few blocks back to Scott’s, and Derek looks around at the busy neighborhood. Surely Peter won’t try anything with so many witnesses about? They should be safe.

When they park, Stiles leans over, grabbing Derek’s shirt to pull him over the console.

Derek kisses him back as gently as he can. Stiles shaved this morning and the smooth skin of his face feels more delicate than it has in a long time.

Stiles leans back and looks Derek up and down. “You’re adorable.” Stiles hops out of the car and starts walking back to the McCall residence.

Derek jumps out after him, already calling over to him. “What? Why?”

Stiles throws his head back in a laugh, slowing for Derek to catch up to him. He pulls at Derek’s shirt. “You own exactly three colored shirts, and you wore one today, sans jacket, because you are trying to look all cuddly and nonthreatening for my dad.”

“No,” Derek argues, his ears already burning. 

Stiles grabs Derek’s arm and wraps his own around it. “It’s a good approach, might just work,” Stiles winks, his chest pressed to Derek’s shoulder, his arms coiled around his biceps. “Either way, you look great in blue.”

Derek looks over at him, matching his pace down the sidewalk. “You sure?”

Stiles smiles, and presses his mouth against the ball of Derek’s shoulder, nodding.

Derek watches the sun refract off of the collection of earth tones in Stiles’ eyes, and allows himself to smile back.

“First he thought you were a criminal, but somehow he gave you the benefit of the doubt. Then we started dating, and he accepted it. Now that he knows you’re an alpha…we might need to give him a little more time to readjust.” Stiles pulls at Derek’s sleeve. “ _ This _ will definitely help.”

Derek shakes his head, as they round a corner to Scott’s house.

* * *

The first thing Stiles does when they arrive at Scott’s is to expand the wards on the house to the perimeter of their property so the garden and driveway are protected.

While he did this, Scott and Jackson carry card tables and chairs out side. They have all spent so much of the last year locked inside, shielded from the outside world and they all want to take advantage of the eleven o’clock sun on a summer day.

Derek notices a few loose screws in one of Melissa’s tables and takes it upon himself to tighten them. He inspects the rest of the house for anything else he can tighten while the food is set up outside. The banister is a little wobbly, but he’ll need better tools to fix it so he sets up a reminder in his phone to come back after the Blood Moon.

Derek stands in the kitchen, watching everyone settle at the tables in the back yard and he can’t help feel detached. 

Everyone belongs here, and Derek feels like the only reason he’s included is because he’s their alpha. If he weren’t, then he and Stiles wouldn’t have had to fake a relationship, and they wouldn’t have ended up here.

Erica sits next to Melissa who is cooing over how big she is, Boyd holding her shoulders with proud eyes.

Jackson and Lydia are talking with Allison about their futures. Scott and Isaac are fighting over who’s going to eat the most hot dogs, and Stiles is laughing with his dad about something Derek missed.

He can’t help but feel like he doesn’t fit in, and that no one notices that he’s not out there. Just as Derek is reminding himself that he lost his family, and he doesn’t deserve a new one, Stiles looks through the window. 

When he meets Derek’s eyes, his smile is blinding, and Derek is able to push his self-hatred under the bed for now. He grabs a pitcher of water and moves to join them.

They are all safe, and happy. He should be grateful.

By the time Derek’s loaded his plate he realizes that Stiles has already told his dad about his own poisoning and that he was unconscious in the back of the car that Derek was driving out of town.

John turns to Derek, “You were able to keep me updated all week, but when he nearly died, you couldn’t call me yourself?”

Derek blinks, “I apologize, sir. I wasn’t thinking past…” Derek doesn’t know how to choose his words. He doesn’t want to discredit his irritation, but he also trusts Stiles when he told him he did the right thing.

John sighs. “I know. You were just focused on saving him.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek nods, wondering if he needs to hear how important Stiles’ life is to him.

Stiles smiles at both of them. “And he did.”

John squeezes his son’s shoulder, before turning back to Derek. “Thank you, son.”

Derek nods, locking his eyes on his plate. John doesn’t call him  _ son  _ often, but when he does it warms Derek. It’s cheezy but he really wants John to accept him. The closest thing Derek has to a father is John. Deaton is too vague to really consider as a parental figure, and Chris has tried to kill him in the past. John is all he’s got. Melissa, thankfully, has already claimed him as one of her own. Her open smiles, hugs, and nods of approval reassure Derek every time he sees her.

Stiles has told Derek that his dad actually wanted him to be friends with him before they started dating because he understood what it was like to be alone. He already wanted to pull Derek into their small family. 

Derek doesn’t want to be accepted out of pity. He wants to earn it. 

The table talks more about the day before, because they didn’t get to talk much last night, and this is the first time John is hearing about a lot of things. 

Eventually, Stiles leans back with a full belly and plays the tum-drum (as Stiles calls it) for a few seconds before looking up at the sky. “We should probably get going.”

John snaps his head to his son. “Get going? You just got here. I took the whole day off.”

Stiles grins already standing up, “You can come with us! We’re going to your house to start going through everything.”

“It’s not safe to go back in.” His dad argues. 

Stiles clicks his tongue, gathering things to carry inside. “I called them this morning, and they have cleared the house for us to go back in. I don’t want you to have to do it alone, so we are going to help you salvage what survived, and clear away most of the rubble.”

“You kids don’t have to do that, I can handle it with the insurance company,” John argues, standing to help clear the table.

Stiles tisks, and walks away. “It’s already been decided. You can come with, or stay here, but we’re doing it today regardless.”

Derek does his best to hide his amusement at how Stiles, true to form, takes it upon himself to take care of those he cares about, no matter their own opinion.

* * *

Stiles and Derek lead the way back to the house, with a few walking behind them, and others driving ahead. Stiles sets barriers as soon as they get there, and starts to head up the front steps.

“The door is blocked.” Derek reminds him, remembering the boards falling in front of them the day of the fire.

“Oh, yeah.” Stiles walks around the house where Melissa is already setting up chairs.

Derek follows close. “You guys should stay out here, it may not be safe in there, and if something collapses on us, we can heal.”

Stiles purses his lips with unspoken disagreement.

Derek lands a dry kiss on his pout, and Stiles sags in defeat. 

“Fine.”

Derek grins and waves his pack toward the back door where they all go in to start working, leaving Stiles, Melissa, John, Allison, Lydia, and Erica to relax in the back yard.

They’ve barely started sorting through the chaos of the kitchen when Derek hears a large truck pull up out front. He goes to see it’s a delivery truck. Derek wipes his hands and jogs out the back door to meet the truck before it moves on.

The man in uniform does a double take, “Oh, I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

Derek smiles, “We’re cleaning it out. I can sign for it.”

The man hops out of the truck and walks around with a package in his hands, and his keypad for Derek to sign. Derek exchanges all necessary pleasantries and sees him off before walking around the house to take the package to John.

“Why would they leave a package here?” John asks, reaching for it.

Derek clears his throat. “They weren’t going to, but I heard the truck and caught them before they drove off so you wouldn’t have to go pick it up later.”

John blinks at him, and Stiles clarifies.

“Werewolf hearing.”

“Oh.” John blinks. “Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Derek nods, turning to head back inside.

John sighs, “I don’t have a knife on me, and I doubt we’ll be able to find one in there.”

Derek turns around to see Erica reach over casually and slice the top of the box open with a claw.

John’s face is comical, and Derek again hides his smirk and hops up the back steps.

Derek does his best not to think about the fire, and how he thought he was going to lose Stiles to the flames in the middle of this very room. Instead, he focuses on clearing the front door so they can start a pile of garbage in the front yard. Derek makes a note to rent a dumpster until the house is cleaned out. 

They’ve cleared most of the kitchen, taking things they can salvage out back for Stiles and John to go through, and the loose garbage to the front. 

Derek tunes into the conversation outside while he keeps himself busy.

Allison’s talking about the classes she’s enrolled in come fall. Right now it’s just basic classes, but eventually, she will work toward her degree that will help her families business grow. 

Allison and Chris are all that remain of their family. Their grandfather may still be alive, but he’s estranged since he was institutionalized. Even if Derek naturally keeps them at arm's distance, he still feels that connection there of losing everyone you love, and being left alone to pick up the pieces. Much like Stiles and his dad. 

Stiles hasn’t ever mentioned any other family members, and his fear of losing his father implies a fear of being left alone.

John clears his throat, “Stiles…have you decided if you’re going to go to college?”

“I’m planning on going if that will make you feel better, but I haven’t decided on classes like Allison has.” 

Derek listens to the chair creak, like Stiles is fidgeting. 

“Since I’ll most likely spend the rest of my life an emissary first, and a regular Joe second, it wouldn’t make sense for me to major in something mundane. So I’m leaning more toward religious and historical degrees. Things like Anthropology, Ethics, Philosophy, and Religion. I’m still trying to see what the colleges nearby offer in each before I make my final decision.”

John responds quickly. “Nearby? Derek won’t let you leave?”

“What?” Stiles laughs, “Dad, no. He’d let me go to Africa if I wanted, well…not  _ let _ , he knows I do what I want, but he wouldn’t try to stop me. I’m staying close because  _ I _ want to. Not just because of him, but you, too. My whole life is here.”

“You’re just a kid, you don’t have a life to leave yet!” his dad argues.

Lydia chimes in next, “With all due respect, Mr Stilinski, I think we can all agree that we aren’t children anymore. I know you only just learned about the supernatural, but we have faced Kanimas and Alphas, while graduating from high school with our class.” She swallows. “If that doesn’t make us at least a little more mature than our class, then I don’t know what will.”

Derek dips his head, feeling responsible for their troubles.

John tsks. “Everyone faces different hardships, it doesn’t mean your roots are planted here for the rest of your lives.”

“John,” Melissa chides.

She shakes her off. “No, I am Stiles’ father, and he needs to get away from here.”

Derek trips through a wall he was trying to determine if it was sturdy or not; clearly not.

“Dad!” Stiles shouts.

“Stiles, you’re going away to college and that’s final.” 

Derek listens to a chair fall, and fast angry steps approach the house before heading back.

“Dad,” Stiles starts, his breathing coming fast. “Today is supposed to be a good day. I woke up happy to be alive, and to finally have my family safe, and you a part of it.”

“Stiles-”

“No, listen.” Stiles takes a deep breath. “I understand that you think me leaving would keep me safe, but news flash, the current danger I face is because  _ I’m  _ an  _ Emissary _ , not because I am involved with  _ wolves _ . If it weren’t for them, I would have already died. You are going to have to accept that my life isn’t going to pan out how we imagined.”

John sighs, “I just want you safe.”

“I know you do, Dad.” 

Derek’s heart pounds in his ears. Here he is trying to earn trust from John, and John wants him gone.

Stiles sits back down. “I know you do. But this is my life, and I love it. I love my pack, and I love Derek. We aren’t going anywhere. I hope one day you can understand why.”

They sit in silence for awhile and Derek looks over to see Scott close by watching him carefully.

Scott points over his shoulder, “Should I go check on them?”

Derek nods, dropping his head and thinking of ways to prove to John that his son is safe with him.

Scott bounds over, grabbing Stiles’ water bottle like nothing is wrong. “We’ve cleared most of the bottom floor. I feel like I need twelve showers.”

Stiles giggles, “You look it too.”

Derek can hear Scott sniffing and turns to see what has his attention when Scott runs back to the house.

“Derek, do you smell that?”

“What?” Derek asks looking around.

“I don’t know…it’s…” Scott circles the floor, before squatting down in the study. “Here, help me.”

Derek helps Scott lift a panel, and underneath is a metal lock box.

“What do you think it is?” Scott asks, handing it to Derek.

“I have no idea.” Derek muses, turning it over in his hands. “It doesn’t look damaged.” Derek hands it back to him. “You should take it out to them.”

Scott furrows his brows.”You don’t want to?”

“I didn’t find it.” Derek stands to return to the downstairs bathroom where he’s in the process of ripping up charred tile.

Scott follows slowly, “You know he’s just scared, right? My mom was the same way, she didn’t talk to me for a week, and locked herself in her room. He’ll come around.”

Derek nods and doesn’t voice the fact that he believes he doesn’t deserve it. Stiles should leave. He should go far, far away. Everything Derek loves burns.

Scott eventually walks away to take the box to them.

“Where did you find that?” John asks in awe.

“It was under a floorboard. I’d been smelling something for awhile.”

“Smelling?” John questions, before Derek hears the metal click of the lock. 

“Super smell, too.” Stiles laughs. “What’s that?”

Derek wants to look for himself, but if Stiles caught sight of his face, he would know he wasn’t okay. So for now, Derek is going to continue to clean out John’s house and remain out of sight.

John opens the box, and his voice goes quiet. “This was your mother's. She used to keep things in here, it was fire and water proof. I never knew what happened to it.”

Stiles’ chair creaks. “Why would she hide it under the floor?”

“I have no idea.” 

Stiles chair creaks more, and Derek imagines he’s leaning over trying to see what’s in the box. “Those are herbs, dried herbs. That’s what you were smelling, Scotty. Dad, what does it say?”

His dad chokes on words before the metal clinks. “I think she left this for you.”

“What, why?” Stiles asks, the metal shifting.

“Because the first page is addressed to you,” John mutters.

Stiles doesn’t respond but opens the box again to see what his dad is talking about.

John settles into his chair, his voice still lost in thought. “All those years I thought your mom was just pulling my leg.”

“Nope,” Stiles replies just as light, pages turning. “She was the Hale Emissary according to this journal, and now the role falls to me.” 

“She said that?” John asks.

“Yeah, on the first page.” Stiles clears his throat. “She wrote, ‘If you’ve found this lockbox, then I’ve gone, and Deaton has been unable to find a replacement for the Hales. That role now falls to you, if you decide to accept.’”

“If you accept,” John points out.

“Dad.” The irritation in Stiles’ voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Fine, yes. Alright.” John shifts, “I’m starting to feel this wasn’t just superstition.”

Derek peaks around a window when Stiles stops breathing.

John holds a leather strap up that he pulled out of his wallet. “She insisted I keep this on me for protection.”

Stiles reaches, silently asking to see it, and his dad drops it into his hand. 

Derek watches Stiles’ spark ignite around it, and a barely there glow emits from the center of the crystal. 

“She’s been protecting you this whole time.” Stiles breathes, his eyes glistening with the light from his hand.

* * *

Derek caves and has a dumpster brought out, and is throwing boards in twice his size when John walks around the house. 

“Woah, son! Careful.”

Derek tosses a board in, “I’m fine.”

John comes to stand after handing Derek a water bottle. “Right, strength.”

“Yes, sir.” Derek takes a drink looking at the mountain of debris in the yard. “I’ll have this cleaned up soon.”

“Don’t worry about that. I want to talk to you for a minute.” 

Derek looks toward the front door where Isaac was heading out with an arm full of charred furniture, but retreated immediately when he realized what he was walking out into. Derek wishes he could hide too, but instead, he stands his ground and nods for John to go ahead.

“I understand you all have super strength, sight, smell, healing…”

Derek nods.

“And hearing…”

Derek knows where this is going. “Yes, sir.”

“I should apologize for my behavior earlier. I didn’t realize you all could hear, and I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

“You want what’s best for your son.” Derek placates.

“I do.” John nods. “But I can’t tell him not to explore this. He finally has something of Claudia, something that he needs. I won’t be able to talk him out of this, and Claudia would have my head if she knew I tried.”

Derek smiles, looking toward the house where Stiles is getting a play by play from Isaac by force.

“You know, everyone is always asking me how I feel about my son dating a boy, like that’s something difficult to adjust to. If only they knew about all the damn werewolves in this town, and that Stiles’  _ boyfriend  _ is actually the alpha.” John laughs.

Derek chuckles and looks at his feet.

“Come take a break, son. I’d say you’ve earned it.”

Derek looks up and can see John trying to come to terms with his son’s life, and Derek smiles back hoping John can see how much he loves his son.

* * *

They all settle around the chairs in the back and Stiles comes around the house with a duffel bag. Derek shifts so he can settle into his chair behind him. Once seated Stiles bends down and opens the bag next to Derek to reveal chips and at least twenty saran-wrapped sandwiches. 

Stiles hands them out and John starts laughing. 

“How can you make food for everyone all the time? Seems like a lot of work.”

Stiles giggles, cricking his neck as he sits back with his own sandwich. “I tried to stop, but they kept chewing on the furniture.”

John and Melissa throw their heads back in laughter.

Derek turns to Stiles with a leveled glare. “Really? I thought we were past the dog jokes.”

Stiles grins and nudges him with his toe, with a wink.

When they finish eating, Stiles turns on the water hose to help clean some of the soot off of everyone.

Stiles sprays Derek in the face when he leans down for a drink, and this starts a war. Stiles cackles, while Derek chases him with the sprayer. 

“Mercy! Mercy!” Stiles shouts, trying to hide behind his father.

Derek freezes, not wanting to get him wet.

John smirks at him. “Careful, Derek. The dog house doesn’t seem too theoretical anymore.”

Derek drops the hose to cover his face. Apparently, dog jokes run in the Stilinski family.

Stiles shakes his dad’s shoulder affectionately. “See Derek? You see now where I get my great sense of humor, and quick  repartee .”

Derek shakes his head and hands the hose off to Jackson, who’s still not satisfied with the state of his arms, and claims Stiles’ chair for himself. He decides now is a good time to bring up rebuilding the house.

John shakes his head, swallowing his water quickly. “I can’t ask you to do that, just let the insurance company handle it.”

“No, really, I want to.” Derek insists, leaving out his thoughts of John as a father. 

Melissa stretches. “It’s okay, Derek. We were already talking about finding a bigger place so you all could sleep over occasionally.” 

Derek looks up at the house, playing with the options available. “You already had three rooms, we can easily add two more over the garage.”

John shakes his head again. “Don’t worry about it, we can stay at Melissa’s until we find a bigger house.”

Stiles twists his toes in the grass, his eyes looking at the charred remains of his childhood home. 

Derek clears his throat. “If that’s what you decide to do, it’s up to you, but I really have no problem rebuilding your home.”

Stiles looks over at Derek with too much emotion to categorize. Derek has to push John a little harder. For Stiles’ sake.

“It’s really no problem,” Derek insists. “I can draw up some blueprints while your insurance settles the claim, and then you can decide if you want to use the money to find a new place, or let me rebuild the house to your liking.”

John hesitates, his eyes unblinking. “You know how to draw up blueprints?”

Derek nods, “Yes, sir. It was a hobby of mine when I was younger; architecture always interested me.”

John shakes his head again. “Really, Derek, I appreciate the offer, but you have other things to worry about. We’ll be okay.”

Stiles groans. “Will you stop being so stubborn, Dad? Just say thank you.”

John opens his mouth to argue further.

“Look,” Stiles holds his hands out. “If it’s a matter or money, Derek is loaded. If he’s offering, he’s not asking for you to cover any of the cost, or pay him for that matter.”

John opens his mouth again, and Stiles swipes his hands through the air. 

“And if you think he’s not capable, I’ll have you look at his house. He rebuilt that. All by himself. He can totally handle it.” Stiles winks at Derek, pride radiating. “Honestly, after the Blood Moon he’ll need a new hobby, so it all works out!” Stiles raises his hands above his head like a miracle has just presented itself before them.

Derek scoffs, “I don’t need a  _ hobby _ .”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.” Derek grumbles.

Stiles laughs, “The most exciting thing you’re doing right now, is working on your credit - which hey!” Stiles looks between Derek and his dad. “Rebuilding the house can help! You can build credit with the factories that you order your supplies from!” Stiles blinks, “Why didn’t you do that with your house?”

Derek plays with the hem of his shirt. “I wasn’t thinking about it.”

Stiles claps his hands, “Well now you can when you rebuild my dad’s house.” Stiles looks at his dad with a wink, “See, dad? You’re actually helping Derek here.”

John pinches his nose, “Stiles, I haven’t said yes.”

Stiles waves his dad off, “No one asked you.” 

Derek catches Stiles’ smirk hidden from his dad.

“So it’s settled.” Stiles rubs his hands together. “Derek, you’ll draw up some plans, and we’ll start on the house next month.”

John grumbles, before finally submitting. “Fine, but you have to start thinking about school.”

Stiles sends his dad a salute as he walks behind Derek’s chair and wiggles his arm between the back and Derek.

“What are you doing?” Derek asks, leaning forward.

Stiles tongue peeks out between his lips, while his fingers wiggle into Derek’s back pockets. “Need your phone.”

Derek rolls his eyes and lifts so Stiles can retrieve the device.

John shakes his head, and Stiles comes around to sit on Derek because he stole his chair. Stiles makes sure to dig his ass in as punishment.

Derek tries to look over Stiles’ shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Stiles’ fingers work quickly. “I need to check something.”

Derek finally gets a look at what Stiles has open. “That’s my bank account?”

“Brilliant deduction skills, Scooby!” Stiles mocks, keying into the password field.

“You know my password?!”

Stiles waves him off while the page loads. “I know all your passwords.”

John pats Derek’s shoulder with a stifled laugh. “Don’t feel bad, the punk know’s all my passwords, too.”

Pride rolls off of Stiles like dry ice, as he tries to focus. He chews on his cuticles, while he scrolls through Derek’s account. 

“What are you even looking for?” Derek asks, accepting his fate, and holding Stiles close.

Stiles chews a little longer, unable to locate what he’s searching for. “I wanted to see how much you spent on your house, because I have no idea how much money it is to build a house.”

Derek wants to tell Stiles to stop referring to it as  _ his _ house. He built it for  _ them _ , for the  _ pack. _ But he restrains himself. “I have a cabinet with all the paperwork in the office at home, I’ll show you where it is tonight.”

Stiles looks over his shoulder at him, his features carefully relaxed. “You wouldn’t mind?” 

Derek’s lips twitch, “You just opened my bank account without permission, but you’re surprised I would let you look through my paperwork?”

Stiles’ lip twitches back, a tender moment only shared between the two of them. Derek silently reminding Stiles that he’s in this for the long haul, and doesn’t want to keep anything from him, and Stiles believing him. 

Jackson kills the moment with a gag. “Ew, gross. Get a room.”

Stiles flips to him, “We will, as soon as Derek rebuilds mine.”

* * *

Derek helps load all the belongings they were able to save into the cars out front. The house is cleaned out for the most part, and Derek is looking forward to drawing up floor plans for John to look at. 

The last couple of hours have been really great, and Derek has found himself picturing the pack’s future. He finally believes that everything will be okay.

John’s phone rings as he rounds the house with another box to load into Stiles’ jeep. “Sheriff Stilinski.” John answers.

On instinct, Derek turns his head to focus his hearing.

“Sheriff, this is Deputy Parrish. Have you heard from Deaton? I’m outside the clinic with four counties K-9 units, for their vaccinations, and he’s not here. This isn’t like him, he’s never missed a vaccination.”

John scrubs his hand over his head. “Are you sure no one has heard from him?”

Derek looks over at Scott who tuned in the minute he heard Deaton’s name mentioned.

John looks to Scott as well, and after a shrug, John tells his deputy that he will get back to him.

After a quick exchange they all realize they can’t remember the last time they talked to Deaton.

John turns to Scott, “He’s your boss, Scott. How can you not know when you saw him last?”

Scott shrugs, recoiling from the group of eyes demanding answers. “After the wolfsbane, he told me to take the week off, I wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow morning.”

Stiles looks to Derek, “Derek what if-”

John cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “Let’s not get ourselves worked up just yet.” 

Stiles shuts his mouth, but his eyes speak volumes.

John heads toward his cruiser. “Melissa and I can go to the station, and call the hospital. I’ll see if there is anything on the traffic cams, and see if anyone there has seen him recently.”

Erica sends Boyd to grab her bag. “Boyd and I can go by his place and see if he’s home.” 

Jackson exchanges a look with Lydia before heading toward Boyd’s car. ‘I’ll go with you guys.”

Derek was just about to ask him to go with them, because if something is wrong, he doesn’t want Erica in the middle of it, and Boyd wouldn’t be able to think clearly with his instinct to protect his mate and offspring.

“Wait for me!” Isaac calls, running to join them.

Allison pulls out her phone. “I’ll go to my house and check our channels, Lydia?”

Lydia nods and follows her to the car.

John holds up a hand, “I’m sure it’s not that big of a deal.”

Stiles returns from around the house with his duffel. “Dad, this is Beacon Hills. It’s always a big deal.”

“Derek and I will go to the clinic with Scott because he has a key, and see if there are any clues there.”

John unlocks his car. “Stiles, stop acting like this is a missing persons case.”

“Fat chance.” Stiles grumbles, climbing into his jeep and unlocking the doors for Derek and Scott.

* * *

By the time they make it to the clinic, the K-9 units are already gone, and they are able to unlock the door without any delay.

Stiles visibly relaxes when he sees that there isn’t any sign of a struggle. Stiles opens the counter, and they all spread out to check the building. When they come back to the entry, Scott is on the computer.

“The vaccinations are at the post office, he probably went at lunch to pick them up.” Scott says, clicking different things on the computer. “He usually picks them up while I’m working, because he’s the only one that can sign for them. It takes longer sometimes than others, he might just be hung up there.” Scott shrugs.

Derek nods, “Can you stay here in case he comes back? Stiles and I can go check the post office.”

Scott stands up, “Sure, I should probably check on the animals anyway. Call me when you find him?” Scott asks.

Derek nods, and Stiles is already halfway out the door.

Stiles is already pulling out of the lot before Derek can close his door. They remain silent, afraid to voice their fears.

They find Deaton’s car toward the back of the lot, and pull up next to it. Deaton isn’t in sight, and when they take a closer look, they see the packages in the back seat already.

Stiles tests the door and it’s unlocked. “Derek…”

“I know.” Derek whispers, already thinking the same thing Stiles is.

Stiles looks back toward the post office. “Maybe he had to go back in for something. Let me run in and see if he’s still there.” Stiles rattles off, already jogging toward the building.

Derek focuses his senses on Deaton, and tries to find a scent trail. He finally picks up a hint of a trail and follows it around the building, all the way toward the tree line. He immediately pulls out his phone to call Stiles. 

“Did you find him?” Stiles asks, quickly, and out of breath.

Derek looks back toward the building to see Stiles rounding the corner looking for Derek. “No.”

“Derek…” Stiles breathes, his steps faltering. “Why are you over there?”

Derek looks back at the trees. “I found his scent. I’m going to follow it before it gets too weak. I need you to call the rest of the pack and tell them to meet me.”

Stiles starts running full force again. “Derek, wait…”

“It’s going to be okay Stiles. I’ll call you as soon as I find him.”

Stiles continues running, his harsh breath filling Derek’s ears. “Derek, please don’t go.”

“I’ll be okay. Go back to the jeep.” Derek bites his tongue, feeling like this is one of those moments to tell Stiles he loves him, but that would sound like a cautionary goodbye, and Derek doesn’t plan on not finding his way back to Stiles.

Derek looks at Stiles, knowing that if he makes it to him they will argue so long that he will lose the trail. Derek nods his head and darts into the trees leaving Stiles behind.

* * *

Stiles bends over gasping for air when Derek disappears. “You stupid son of a…bitch. Fuck...goddamn it, Derek.” Stiles holds his sides which are crying out for mercy, and turns on his heel. “Stupid. So stupid.”

Stiles drags himself back to his jeep, and calls Isaac first because he’s already with Erica, Boyd, and Jackson. They pull into the lot before Stiles is off the phone with Scott, and dialing his dad.

Erica grudgingly stays back with Stiles, while the other two run after Derek’s scent.

Scott shows up next as Stiles gets a hold of Lydia.

She answers on the first ring, “Stiles, I have a bad feeling.”

Stiles blanches. “A bad feeling, like my sandwiches were bad, or  _ bad  _ feeling,  _ death _ bad feeling.”

Lydia’s silence rings in Stiles’ ears.

“Lydia, Derek just ran into the reserve alone. Jackson, Boyd, Isaac, and Scott are at least ten minutes behind him.” Stiles explains, like that will make Lydia take her bad feeling back.

“Stiles,” her voice shakes, and Stiles drops his phone to run blindly into the woods.

* * *

Stiles knows that Erica is hot on his heels, but he can’t slow down. He has to find Derek. Stiles calls back to Erica, “Am I going the right way?”

“Veer left.” She answers, and Stiles does as he’s told, willing his legs to move faster than they ever have before. 

If something happens to Derek…

No.

Stiles can’t think about that. He won’t.

Derek is fine.

* * *

Half an hour later they reach a small clearing, and Erica grabs his wrist.

“Wait.”

Stiles looks around.”What is it?” He whispers.

She points her ear. “They found Deaton.” 

“Oh thank God!” Stiles cries, relief flooding him. “Where are they?”

Erica turns to run right, when she stops, and slowly looks back at Stiles.

Stiles falters, “What? Erica? What?!” Stiles doesn’t wait for a response. He takes off full force in the direction she turned until he runs into another body.

Boyd helps him up, and Stiles gets a look around him. There isn’t any severed limbs or guts lying around, so that has to be a good sign, right?

Stiles’ eyes land on Deaton who Scott is currently untying from a tree. He looks badly beaten, and in need of medical attention.

Deaton looks up at him. “Stiles, I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Stiles’ voice is barely audible.

“Peter…” Deaton gasps, trying to find his footing with Scott’s help. “Peter took him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Krist wasn't able to finish editing this, and I wasn't able to make sense of words, so hopefully this is still good. I'm going to rest and try to post chapter 11 later on so then all we are waiting on is chapter 12. If all works out, I'll post that tomorrow, but as long as I remain in the hospital unable to breathe, I make no promises.


	11. The bitter in you and the quitter in me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the 11th day of Christmas I gave to my boo! Another late chapter that has taken me six hours to prep for posting because I can't do anything without fighting for air. Yay pneumonia and hospitals!
> 
> This chapter title comes from Lover Dearest (which I don't have the energy to link) by Marianas Trench.
> 
> Angst, comin right up!

After keeping a close watch over the new and improved Hale pack, Peter knew he would have to work harder in order to achieve his goal. It was going to take more than a few acts on the night of the Blood Moon to coerce Stiles into turning himself over. 

Stiles had warded the Hale house, and Peter had been unable to enter the house for months. His best bet was to capture Stiles while he was out of the house, only he had thought ahead and warded any other property he could be found at. 

Stiles had somehow protected himself at all times.

Which is why Peter had to figure out how to coerce Stiles into giving himself over.

Peter knew that one act of coercion wouldn’t work, he needed to hit all of Stiles’ weak points to wear him down before the Blood Moon. Starting with Stiles’ father.

As luck would have it, Peter found the entire Hale pack at the Stilinski household one afternoon, and took advantage by merging two plans in one. He set off a smoke bomb in a back room while the pack was distracted, after finding by some miracle he was able to enter this house. Peter would never understand why Stiles left his father vulnerable.

His smoke bomb would slowly disperse wolfsbane laced with water hemlock that would go undetected by the wolves for hours unless they were actively seeking an abnormality in the air. Then after he was sure the toxin had circulated, he then set off the bomb.

This would accomplish wonders for his plan.

He would destroy Stiles’ childhood home, point out his father’s vulnerability, poison his pack, poison Stiles himself, and distract him enough to capture one of the Beta’s to use as leverage.

No matter what Stiles tried to do to prevent Peter’s advances, Peter would remain three steps ahead.

* * *

* * *

 

“There was nothing I…” Deaton struggles to hang onto Scott. “I’m sorry.” Deaton swallows thickly, his eyes falling shut from the injuries he’s sustained from Peter.

Stiles doesn’t move. There’s no way this is happening. He fell, and hit a tree or something. This is a nightmare. He’s clumsy. He  _ obviously  _ fell face first into a tree.

His ears ring and everything else ceases to exist. The only thing Stiles can hear over the shrill pitch in his ears are Deaton’s words on repeat, and unchanging.

_ Peter took him. _

“No.” Stiles twists his head as he falls a step back, his own voice weak to his ears. “No.”

They’ve been careful. They finally had a plan. It was almost  _ over _ . 

His hands start to shake as his lungs refuse to expand. The rest of his pack begin to disappear one by one as the darkness at the edge of his periphery draws close. 

Stiles tries to lift a hand to wipe the bead of sweat trickling down his nose, but it remains at his side.

_ Peter took him. _

“No.”

Stiles turns around as though he’ll find Derek behind him. 

“No.”

Something touches his arm and he rips away, turning to see Scott.

Scott holds his hands out, his lips moving but without sound.

Stiles forces a short breath, and realizes Scott is mouthing the word  _ breathe. _

_ “ _ No.” Stiles says again, his own voice mute to his ears. “No.”

He’s having a panic attack. This is a panic attack.

“No.” He’s no good to Derek if he doesn’t remain of sober mind. “No.”

Scott remains in front of him, arms open, and eyes gentle.

Stiles covers his ears, trying to dull the ringing, but it only intensifies. “No!” 

Derek’s going to be fine.

Unless Peter’s already killed him.

Stiles buckles forward at the thought and forces himself to focus by sheer force of will, and screams loud enough for the whole of Beacon Hills to hear him. “ _ No!” _

He screams it as a mantra, over and over. His muscles wake up, as his lungs finally expand. The darkness at his periphery starts to recede, and Stiles notices small strands of electricity pulsing on either side of his head where his hands cover his ears.

Stiles rights himself abruptly, taking a deep breath, and closes his eyes. He reaches out for Derek or any indication of which direction Peter might have taken him. They are supposed to be bound. Derek is mated to him, and Stiles’ magic has returned the bond.

“I’ll find you.” Stiles promises, his hands flickering out as he regains control.

He isn’t sure if he  _ actually _ gets any sort of magical indication telling him to take off to his left, or if he simply needed to get himself moving. Either way, Stiles runs harder than he has in his entire life. Lungs crying out for mercy, legs screaming, heart thundering. 

_ Peter took him. _

If there’s one thing Stiles knows about Peter, it’s that he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. 

Stiles pushes his legs on, already too far behind. They could be anywhere by now. 

Peter killed Laura, what’s to stop him from killing Derek?

There isn’t any time to waste.

He feels as though he’s been running for hours and has found no trace of Derek. He resorts to calling out to him. “Derek!” 

At a sudden snapped twig behind him, he cranes his head back in hopes it might be Derek. 

Instead, he’s faced with Jackson’s blue glowing eyes. The momentary distraction is enough for him to catch an exposed root and plunge to the forest floor.

He’s already trying to get his feet back underneath him before he’s completed his descent to the ground. Meeting resistance, he finds Isaac, and Jackson helping him up. Only, they don’t let him continue his search. They grasp at his limbs, restricting his movements. Stiles struggles, adrenaline still burning through his system.

“No!” Stiles shouts, realizing they are trying to lead him back the way he came. “No!” He tries kicking his legs for any leverage. “Derek!” Stiles looks out into the dark trees, knowing that if he tries a little longer, he’ll find Derek. He’s sure of it. “Derek!”

“Stiles!” Jackson shouts behind him where he has Stiles’ arms trapped at his sides. “We have to go,” Jackson demands, his arms meeting around Stiles to clasp over his breast bone.

“Derek!” Stiles screams, his voice raw. “Derek! Where are you?!” 

Isaac comes to stand in front of him, his eyes glowing his bright yellow. “Stiles, you’re bleed-”

“DEREK!” Stiles kicks out at Isaac’s knees effectively knocking him to the ground.

Isaac recovers and comes to stand in front of Stiles with wide eyes. He doesn’t say anything to Stiles, just holds eye contact. 

Stiles looks away refusing to decipher what emotions are written on his face. “DEREK! GODDAMN IT!” Stiles’ eyes cast over Isaac, and the same pain he feels is written there as well. “DEREK!” Stiles clenches his eyes. “Come back to me!” Stiles screams, his voice breaking when he opens them to see Isaac fighting his own emotions.

Jackson maintains a tight hold, and Stiles finally collapses as the fight makes way for pain.

“Derek, please…” Stiles chokes, his tears finally breaking free one at a time. “We need you…” Stiles croaks with his eyes on Isaac. “I can’t do this without you…”

Having burned through his body's adrenaline, Stiles’ limbs go limp, and he lets Jackson hold his weight. 

Isaac steps forward now that Stiles’ legs have stopped swinging for purchase. Wrapping his hand around Stiles’ neck, he pulls Stiles forehead to his chest to offer what little comfort he can.

Stiles fights the tears for as long as he can, but inevitably he breaks. His pain pouring out of him in steady streams, and echoing in the empty forest around them.

* * *

When Stiles opens his eyes, early morning light is filtering through his window above the bed. Derek isn’t in the bed next to him, and Stiles isn’t surprised to see this because his night consisted of nightmares of the day before, and scattered arguments with his pack since.

Stiles observes the sleeping bodies around him and rage fills him yet again. Why are they here? They should be out looking for Derek. They argued that Stiles needed them, and there wasn’t anything they could do. 

He knows they have a point because they haven’t been able to find Peter for a year, why would now be any different?

Peter has  _ Derek _ , that’s what’s  _ different _ .

Stiles attempts to right himself to start working on a plan but his limbs are weighed down by defeat. 

Peter’s won.

They can’t fix this.

They’re just a bunch of kids faking their way in the world. The only thing that made them feel like they had any control was Derek’s presence. His constant reassurance. His guiding hand. 

Without him, they’re lost.

Without Derek they remain broken children tied up in a world they will never fully understand.

Stiles catches a glimpse of the worn Crichton novel on Derek’s bedside table. Stiles eyes trace the single word on the spine, distressed over time, but legible.

_ Prey _

Stiles can’t appreciate the irony with the defeat etched into his bones.

Isaac’s foot shifts in his sleep and kicks the book off the table. 

“That’s it!” Stiles yells at the seven sleeping bodies in his room, specifically Isaac’s disrespectful foot. “Get out!” 

They raise their heads with heavy lids, trying fruitlessly to wake up.

Stiles excavates from the limbs tangled around him and stomps across the room, his hands sparking at his sides. “Get.  _ Out _ .” 

Scott climbs out of bed, coming to stand in front of him like the night before. “Stiles… let’s talk-”

“No!” Stiles shouts opening the bedroom door wider. “I said ‘get out!’ So,  _ go _ !” 

The others slowly climb off the bed, and cast Stiles pitiful eyes.

Stiles doesn’t look at them as he holds the door wide until they have all crossed through the frame. Once out, he slams the door closed and forces all the air out of his lungs in a deep growl.

Stiles has  _ no  _ idea what to do. He’s  _ just  _ as clueless as the rest of the pack.

The  _ only  _ thing Stiles knows is that he can’t continue living in this life without Derek. 

Stiles retrieves the fallen book, and rests it back on Derek’s nightstand, leaving the bookmark in place for Derek when he gets home.

_ Derek will come home. _

They’ve made it through Kanimas and Alphas. They can get through this, too.

Stiles turns on his desk lamp and boots up his computer, as the conversations from the night run through his mind.

_ He’s not dead because we can still feel his power. _

_ But what if Peter already took the power, and we are actually feeling Peter? _

_ I don’t think it works that way… _

_ Stiles? _

_ Derek’s not dead. _ Stiles refused to believe otherwise.  _ He’s out there and needs our help. _

Stiles checks to see if Wiki’s online so he can ask how his bond with Derek is supposed to work. He imagines the pain of Derek’s  _ death  _ would be undeniable, he’s only suffering in  _ fear  _ right now. That’s all.

She’s not online so Stiles moves on, because Derek’s  _ not _ dead. 

He opens the portal that hosts the tracking devices Chris and Allison gave the pack for Christmas. He’s opened it dozens of times since he made it home last night, and each time he sees the same thing. A cluster of yellow dots over the Hale house. Three purple squares located at the hospital, Sheriff station, and Chris’ house. His own red triangle mixed in with the pack’s, and another red triangle dancing around the whole of Beacon Hills.

That musical red indicator? That’s Derek.

The first time they could  _ actually  _ use Chris’ gift, it doesn’t freaking work.

Allison has been with her dad all night trying to figure out what is wrong, and Stiles hasn’t heard word since.

He prints out the map of Beacon Hills and locates his scrying crystal Sylwia gave him when they met. He tries to pinpoint Derek’s location like he’s seen in movies, since technology is failing him.

Stiles focuses his thoughts and lets the crystal swirl patterns over the layout of his town.

He calls out to Derek with his mind, pushing everything else out, and only visualizing his face. Half an hour passes and the crystal never picks a location. All this has served to do is remind Stiles that he  _ sucks _ , and half an hour of Derek’s face in his mind reminding him of what’s  _ missing _ .

Stiles fights the urge to throw things, knowing that he’s no good to Derek if he breaks.

* * *

A handful of hours without Derek, nor a plan, stretch on like weeks. 

Every half hour, one or more of his pack try to come check on him and he’s resorted to blasting music and throwing things to get them to leave him alone.

Every time he looks at them he feels himself breaking. He’s not the only one who’s scared. The problem though is that Stiles’ fear of the worst case scenario is the  _ only _ thing keeping him together. 

While the others mope, and look to him for direction, Stiles keeps his shoulders square and attempts spell after spell. He has to find Derek, because he might be the only one who can. What they do after they find him, Stiles has no idea. Right now, he just has to  _ find  _ him.

* * *

Derek wakes instantly at the crack of his jaw. He blinks to find Peter wiping his knuckles with a towelette, and smiling down once their eyes meet. Derek rolls his neck, waiting for his jaw to reconnect, and holds on to the final images of Stiles lingering in his mind.

He remains strapped to a chair, with aconite spreading throughout his veins, courtesy of Peter.

“Rise and shine, nephew. It’s a new day.” Peter smiles, his voice light and full of glee.

* * *

The sun has almost set and Stiles still hasn’t found Derek by magic. He’s tried sneaking out of the house, but as expected, he never gets very far.

Stiles can’t eat, sleep is a foreign concept, and he has to physically force the air in and out of his lungs as he holds onto his composure.

As of now, his coping mechanism is to plan new and inventive ways to  _ obliterate  _ Peter by sheer force of will. He paces now imagining his spark filling Peter up and eviscerating him from within in a  _ bright, bloody, explosion _ .

Stiles smiles at the image and closes his eyes to picture the future after, and is instead met by Talia.

“Stiles, how are you?” She asks, her tone gentle.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “The same as I was  _ ten minutes ago _ .” Stiles throws out a hand, “Do you have anything new to help me  _ find him _ ?”

She shakes her head taking a step forward. “I wish I did. I’m worried about you, Stiles.”

Stiles slaps his arms at his sides. “Well, don’t be. We need to worry about  _ Derek _ . Find me if you find  _ him _ , otherwise  _ don’t distract me _ .” Stiles closes his eyes and when he opens them he’s back in his room.

Talia has been reaching out to him since she realized Derek was missing, and Stiles is on the fast track to losing any points he held with Derek’s mother. He’s blowing her off, and turning his back on her entirely. She can’t help. All she can serve to do is enable Stiles to break, which he  _ can’t do _ .

* * *

Peter pulls a chair over to straddle, sitting comfortably with his forearms resting on the back of the chair. “We have some catching up to do, dear nephew.”

Derek levels his uncle with a sharp glare. He counts all the chances he had to kill him and never took advantage of. If he had sucked it up and looked at the facts, he could have rid his pack of this threat. Even if Peter is his last remaining relative. 

He remembers that Cora is still out there somewhere, and considering his current predicament,  _ she  _ will soon be the last Hale.

Derek knows that his chances of getting out of Peter’s grasp alive are slim, but he also knows without doubt that Stiles will avenge him.

Stiles loves with all his heart. 

When he’s happy, he does his best to keep everyone else happy too. When he starts to fall in on himself, he convinces himself that as long as everyone else is okay, he will be okay. Stiles has a good heart.

Stiles is also a brat to his core.

He’s stubborn and refuses to listen to reason as he’s determined to come up with every solution himself. He’s selfish with an ever-growing need to be useful and validated. When he doesn’t get his way, he acts much like a petulant child. Stiles is a brat.

Stiles’ wounds make him who he is.

Stiles learned that sarcasm and activity distracted others from his pain at an early age. He lost his mother, and somehow convinced himself that he had killed her. He felt as though his father wished Stiles had died instead. He became self-sufficient to ease the stress written in his father’s bones. He created a whole persona to keep his damage secret, and show everyone what they wanted to see. It was easier to accept a kid with excess energy and odd fascinations, than a kid who contained fury that could level a town because of the guilt he felt.

The list of hardships Stiles has faced since only continues.

These wounds are what make Stiles the person he is.

He knows what it’s like to feel debilitating pain and wouldn’t wish it on anyone. If he distinguishes you as someone important in his life, he will do everything he can to spare you pain, and will fight until his dying breath to protect you from feeling what he has.

Since they moved in together, Stiles has been his best self even with all the added stress from Peter’s threat.

Stiles’ magic chose  _ Derek _ . Stiles  _ loves _ Derek.

Derek knows it’s wrong to find pleasure in this, but he forgives himself with the sight of Peter taking pleasure in the sight of Derek’s body slowly shutting down.

Derek looks at Peter, and knows that Stiles will make it through without Derek, but he won’t move on until he ruins Peter. Stiles will put all of his energy into avenging his death. 

Which will leave Cora, wherever she may be, as the final Hale.

* * *

Stiles is searching for the Triskele Talisman that Derek told him he used when he was younger as an anchor. He believes he needs something of Derek’s that holds meaning to help him with a locator spell.

He’s digging through the desk a third time when he hears his phone ring. He realizes he hasn’t had his phone since he dropped it behind the post office, meaning someone else picked it up.

Stiles lets someone else handle his phone, because the only person he cares to hear from is Derek, and he’s not going to be calling him any time soon. Stiles gives up on finding the talisman and heads back toward the stairs.

“Cut the shit,” Erica growls. 

This catches Stiles’ attention and he finds Erica on his phone talking to whoever called a moment ago.

“That’s none of your business.” Erica bristles.

Stiles takes a step into the living room. “Who’s that?”

Erica’s eyes meet his without answer.

“Is that  _ Peter _ ?” Stiles demands as he draws closer. Already knowing the answer.

She nods once.

Stiles reaches for the phone, ready to lay into Peter, when Erica takes a step back. Stiles reaches again with more force. “Give me the phone!”

He finds himself restricted by a large figure behind him, and his rage comes to a boiling point. He knows Peter can hear him, even if he can’t hear Peter. 

“I’m going to kill you, Peter! Do you fucking hear me?! I am going to tear you apart with my bare hands if you so much as lay a finger on him!” Stiles screams, pulling away from the arms holding him back. “You’re  _ done _ !” 

Erica hangs up the phone with worried eyes.

Stiles finally shoves the arms around him away, and closes the distance between him and Erica. “Give me that,” Stiles growls, snatching the phone from her hand and pulling up his call log, only to find it was a blocked number.  _ Awesome _ . “Why didn’t you let me talk to him?” Stiles demands, waving the phone in her face.

She holds her ground. “Because you aren’t exactly the most rational person right now.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Stiles balks, “I’m actually  _ trying _ to find him, while you all mope around the house like he’s  _ already dead!” _

Boyd comes between them, instinctively protecting his unborn child. “Stiles, you need to calm down.”

Stiles shoves Boyd with everything he has, despite the size of the man. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.  _ None  _ of you do.”

Jackson comes out of the kitchen to see what the commotion is. “Calm down, Stilinski!”

Stiles flips on him. “You all have always just stood by,  _ mindless  _ little foot soldiers awaiting a mission, and let Derek take the brunt of  _ everything _ .”

Lydia chimes in from the couch where she was reading her tablet for solutions. “Stiles, you’re being unfair.”

Stiles flips on her next. “What’s  _ unfair  _ is all of you giving up on Derek, and leaving him to  _ die.” _ Stiles lets his eyes drift over the group. “You make me sick. You just take and take and take, but the  _ second  _ he needs you, you can’t be bothered.”

Stiles recognizes that what he’s saying is doing more harm than good, but he can’t stand the fact that they aren’t  _ doing anything _ .

If one of  _ them  _ were missing, Derek would be in the preserve day and night running himself into the ground. 

Stiles turns to go upstairs when Isaac announces that Peter is outside.

* * *

Derek watches the poison manifest in lightning like lines across his exposed skin. There’s no way Stiles will be able to find him before it’s too late.

Derek closes his eyes and attempts to find solace with the memories of Stiles’ skin on his. 

The love Derek holds for Stiles is too immense to measure by any human standard, and growing up he never believed he would experience something so definite. If all he can have is a year of something so pure, he considers himself a lucky man.

He thinks back to their first date. Well before he realized Stiles was his mate, and they were still putting up a front for the alphas. He remembers Stiles singing that God awful country song in the front seat, and changing the words in order to irritate Derek with his unimaginative dog jokes.

He goes back to the night he found Stiles stoned on his roof, and how when he passed out next to Derek he whispered that he was glad it wasn’t so hard being his boyfriend. 

He regrets all the nights he stumbled through Stiles’ window with torn flesh, but clings to the memory of Stiles telling him that he’d seen him at his worst and still thought he was the best.

He just hopes Stiles still believes that when he’s gone.

* * *

Stiles barrels through the front door and down the driveway toward Peter, with his hands sparking brighter than he’s ever seen.

Peter remains in place at the edge of the property with his arms clasped behind his back. The closer Stiles gets, the wider Peter’s smile becomes.

The air is knocked out of Stiles as he’s slammed to the ground by another body. Stiles growls and fights his way from beneath the beta so he can get his hands on Peter. He’s going to  _ eviscerate  _ him.

Peter laughs from the gravel road. “You can’t even get past a couple pups and you think you’re going to kill  _ me _ ?”

Stuck under the beta, Stiles digs his hands into the grass and pulls up anything he can to throw at Peter. He chunks a handful of packed dirt, and bolts of lightning fly from his hand.

Peter is just as stunned as Stiles, and fails to get out of the line of fire. It connects with his chest and shocks him enough to drop him to his knees.

Stiles looks at his hand in bewilderment, fingers trembling because he  _ shouldn’t  _ have been able to do that. Emissaries  _ can’t hurt people _ …

Peter rights himself on weak knees. “ _ Interesting _ .”

Scott’s voice comes from over Stiles’ shoulder. “I’ll let you up, but you can’t cross your barriers. If he gets his hands on you, he wins.”

Stiles considers this before nodding. He’s no good to Derek dead, and the most valuable bargaining chip is his own life for Derek’s.

Scott slowly lifts from Stiles’ back, and Stiles rights himself as well, brushing his hands of dirt.

Stiles approaches the barrier that Peter can’t cross to stand face to face with the man he plans to annihilate. “If you give me Derek  _ now _ , I’ll give you a quick death.”

Peter smirks. “I’m sure you would.”

Stiles squints his eyes, challenging.

Peter spreads his arms at either side. “Mommy over there wouldn’t let me speak to you over the phone, so I decided to make a personal visit.” He bows as though it were a formal meeting.

Stiles crosses his arms. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?” 

Peter clicks his tongue. “I’m not here to admire the situation; I’m here to make a deal.”

“What makes you think I would ever make a deal with you?” Stiles lifts his chin.

“Because you have in the past.  _ Especially _ , when I have something you want.”

Scott comes up beside Stiles. “Give us Derek, and we’ll allow you a head start out of town.”

Peter shudders. “So  _ ferocious _ . Stiles? How do you feel about Scott as Derek’s  _ successor _ ? Not as monosyllabic as Derek, that’s for sure.”

“How do I even know he’s alive?” Stiles asks, not caring for small talk.

Peter pulls out his phone and opens a video. “This is how I left him, and he will remain here untouched as long as you give me what I want.”

It takes everything in Stiles not to show his emotions at seeing Derek broken, bloody, and drained.

“What do you want?” Stiles asks.

A slow smile spreads across Peter’s face. “The Blood Moon is only a matter of days from now.”

“Yeah, so?” Stiles shrugs like Peter’s end game hasn’t been the  _ only _ thing on Stiles mind for a year.

“I’ll need new vials of blood to begin the process.”

Stiles pretends to consider this. He could deny him and try to give Peter a reason to keep Derek alive, but then it occurs to him that Peter has no intention of letting Derek live. Peter isn’t an alpha, and now he has Derek.

“Well?” Peter asks.

Stiles levels a glare. “It doesn’t matter if I agree or not, you’re going to kill Derek tonight.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“In order for the ritual to  _ work  _ you have to be an alpha.” Stiles states, voiding any promise Peter had planned to trick Stiles with. “So giving you my blood would be a death sentence for Derek.”

Peter curls the corners of his mouth down, while he thinks this over. “I can see why you would think that, but you’re missing one integral piece of this puzzle.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Stiles asks.

Peter tilts his head forward to level a stare at Stiles, and then his eyes glare bright red.

Out of all the possibilities Stiles prepared himself for, not one of them featured Peter getting his alpha power from anyone but Derek.

“Now,” Peter says. “Give me the blood I need, or Derek  _ will _ die tonight for no other reason than your  _ tenacity _ .”

“Give me  _ Derek _ , and I’ll give you my  _ blood _ .” Stiles challenges. 

Peter clicks his tongue with a wag of his finger. “Ah ah, that’s not the deal. I’m promising to keep Derek alive, provided you give me the blood. He will only be released  _ after _ you have surrendered your heart to me under the Blood Moon.”

Stiles weighs his options. If he refuses then Derek will die tonight. If he agrees then he has four days to figure out how to save both Derek and himself.

“Fine.” Stiles says, “But I’ll need actual proof that Derek is alive each day I give you a vial, and I won’t surrender myself for the ritual until Derek is released. These are  _ my  _ terms.”

Peter smiles. “Pleasure doing business with you, Stiles.”

* * *

After they’re sure Peter is gone, Lydia braves Stiles’ room. 

Stiles ignores her, letting his crystal swirl over a map of the preserve.

“Are you really going to continue ignoring all of us?” She asks, coming to stand beside him crossing her arms.

Stiles remains silent, his intent to do  _ exactly _ that.

“Fine.” She huffs. “You may forget, but I know how your silent treatments work from grade school.”

Stiles doesn’t look up, his crystal spinning above the map.

“I just want to know one thing.” She says pushing his shoulder and forcing him to face her. 

Stiles levels his eyes at her, mouth sewn shut.

She levels a glare just as harsh back. “Why haven’t you called Wiki?”

Stiles feels his eyes grow colder, and his muscles set in place. He can’t answer that.

“Because,” Scott says. “He can’t.”

Stiles glances over at Scott who’s standing in the doorway with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Lydia flips her head to Scott. “Why on earth not?”

Scott meets Stiles’ eyes, before reading Stiles’ mind like a gory picture book. “He can’t ask Wiki for help because he’s going to  _ kill  _ Peter. Emissaries can’t do harm, and Stiles has decided he’s going to kill Peter even if it costs him his magic.”

* * *

Stiles is finally left alone after Scott tells the rest of the pack what Stiles plans to do. Stiles only lets himself sit in frustration for a minute before he returns to work. All the times Stiles could have used Scott’s intuition, he remained oblivious. The one time Stiles needed his intentions kept secret, Scott picked up on it.

Of  _ course  _ he did.

If it manages to keep the rest of the pack at arms length, at least it wasn’t for nothing.

Sylwia made it clear that if any emissary were to use their magic to kill another, they would be stripped of said magic instantly and would never be able to regain it.

Before, he thought he  _ literally  _ couldn’t. As though his magic would refuse to obey if he had nefarious intentions, but after throwing a bolt of lightning at Peter...

Stiles tells himself it’s a small price to pay to get Derek back and protect his pack. He hasn’t even had his magic that long, and so far it's been pretty useless. 

He considers some of the other things she told him while he was recovering from his poisoning. 

Emissaries are supposed to be able to perform magic by sheer force of will. If he can imagine it, he can make it happen.

Stiles realizes he’s been so focused on locating Derek, that he hasn’t taken time to look at the whole picture. He steps away from his work station, closes his eyes, and clears his mind.

It takes a minute, but he realizes that he doesn’t necessarily have to locate Derek. He could always locate Peter and find Derek that way. Especially if Peter has to go back to Derek every day to get proof of life in exchange for Stiles’ blood.

Then the idea hits him. 

Maybe he can track his  _ own  _ blood  _ within  _ Peter. 

Stiles decides to test his theory before he banks on it. He pulls out a mortar, and a few herbs that he’s read to be rumored for blood magic. He grinds the herbs with an oil into a fine paste, before slicing his palm and letting the blood pour freely into the mixture.

He grabs a nearby rag with a tight fist to stave the bleeding, and uses his other hand to mix the blood in. 

He considers how, in order to execute an advanced spell, he has to incorporate the four elements. He has earth on behalf of the herbs already.

He adds water to the bowl, and watches the oil settle at the top with the herbs, while the blood mixes with both.

For fire he ignites the oil on the surface with his spark. 

He then takes his scrying crystal and dips it in the mixture, the flames dancing around the stone. Stiles lets it sit a moment before lifting it out and over the map. When he lifts the crystal out, the flame that filled the mortar snuffs out, and the crystal’s surface dances with thin lightning.

Stiles assumes this means he did  _ something  _ right. He holds the crystal over the map and begins a smooth motion of swirls over the surface with a cleansing breath. With all the stress he’s under, he doesn’t even flinch when the crystal sparks, and the map catches fire. 

The fire goes out before Stiles can consider reaching for an extinguisher. Upon closer observation he sees that a small hole has burned through where the Hale house is located. So he can locate himself... that’s  _ useless _ .

Stiles swirls the sparking crystal again, wondering if he can find anything else. He’s donated at blood drives… maybe those can be located? His best bet is for the crystal to locate Peter and his newest vile, but he’ll take anything at this point.

Another spark falls from the crystal burning a hole in the Sheriff’s Station. 

“Okay.” Stiles frowns, “So… is that my dad?”

Stiles dips the crystal in a glass of water to put the spark out and paces his room while he considers his results.

* * *

Derek wakes to a branding iron searing through his cheek and into his mouth.

Peter has resorted to pure torture because it’s the only thing Derek can’t control his reactions to. Peter stands above him twisting the iron further between his jaws, and inhaling the smell of seared flesh.

Derek clenches his eyes closed for as long as he can before his mouth hangs open, and a desperate cry of anguish leaves him.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” Peter smiles dropping the iron back in a small fire. “It occurred to me you never understood how I got this way. You’re quick to paint me as the villain, but do you even understand  _ why _ I look for power?”

Derek stares at him, his flesh stitching back together at a glacial rate with the wolfsbane in his system. 

Peter paces the room. “You came to visit me in the hospital…how many times? You saw what the fire did to me. I was stuck in a ruined shell. Able to hear everything around me, but unable to  _ live _ .”

Derek rolls his eyes, spitting chunks of flesh onto the floor. He almost wishes Peter would kill him already.

“You roll your eyes, but you need to know what you did to me.” Peter drops his chin. “Everything I have done since the fire, is  _ your _ fault.”

“How?” Derek manages with half a tongue.

“Because if you hadn’t left the house that night to find  _ Kate _ ,” Peter spits her name with disgust, “and Laura hadn’t followed you, the Alphas power would have passed down to  _ me.  _ My burns would have healed within the night, and I would have been  _ fine. _ ”

Derek keeps his face blank. Stiles has been working with Derek all year on forgiving himself. He’d been carrying his survivor's guilt like a badge, and Stiles had finally convinced him that he didn’t have to feel guilty for  _ surviving _ .

“I watched you get close to her,” Peter continues.

This catches Derek’s attention.

Peter seethes, “I watched you divulge our secrets.” 

Derek swallows. If Peter knew the whole time, how can he blame this on  _ only him? _

Peter curls his lip. “When I realized what you were doing, I went to Kate and made a deal to save myself.” Peter gives a feral smile. “ _ I _ was the one who helped Kate set the fire that night. I agreed to help her kill everyone in the house as long as I was able to survive. Because I helped orchestrate the fire, I was able to protect myself from the worst of it. I would survive, and become the Alpha.”

All of Derek’s long days with Chris and John finally make sense. Peter  _ did  _ have something to do with Kate and the fire. If only Derek could tell them. Unfortunately, he’s not likely to make it the night.

Derek wishes his tongue would heal faster because he has a few choice phrases for his psychotic uncle. 

Peter picks up the brand again. “Enough about that; pretty soon you won’t be around to cause me any more trouble.”

Derek braces himself for the branding iron.

“Your mate is quite the feisty one, isn’t he?” Peter muses, tracing the edge of the iron over Derek’s collar bones.

Derek fights to keep the small grunts inside, small puffs of air slipping through the gaps in his cheeks where he’s not completely healed.

“Clever, too.” Peter tilts his head. “He’s bargained you a few more days.”

Derek wonders what Stiles could have possibly agreed to. 

Peter’s smile twists. “We have four days to kill, Derek. Whatever will we do to fill the time?”

* * *

Stiles sits at the end of his bed staring at his bedroom door while he chews any remaining cuticle from his middle finger. He knows what he needs, but with the way he’s treated the pack he can’t go asking for favors. He doesn’t deserve their help.

But he has to  _ see  _ Derek. 

He can’t keep it together much longer without the sound of Derek’s voice.

Stiles bounces his knee, trying to work up the courage to go down stairs and ask the others to let him siphon their magic.

He’s thought about it a lot. He’s an emissary, which means he can do whatever he puts his mind to. Wiki traveled to find him when he was poisoned, Stiles can do the same. Only she ended up in bed for half a day recovering. Stiles can’t risk that. He needs  _ more  _ magic.

Sylwia explained how an emissary with a pack was stronger because they  _ share  _ their magic.

He keeps trying to talk himself out of it, and manages to stand up and reach his door a few times.

_ Progress _ .

He’s managed to open his door, but now he’s sitting back on the bed and bouncing the other knee.

After another twenty minutes, he finally makes it downstairs where he faces six guarded expressions.

“Hey,” Stiles waves.

No one responds, and they turn their heads back to the television.

Stiles knows he deserves it, and understands why any request of his will be denied. Seeing Derek isn’t going to help them find him; it’s only going to serve to comfort Stiles. He doesn’t have the same bond the other’s do. He can’t  _ feel  _ Derek’s life force.

Stiles turns back around at the foot of the stairs, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the bannister. If he apologized, it wouldn’t be honest. They would know he wasn’t  _ really  _ sorry.

Yes, he knows he has been a raging dick hole, but his feelings were still valid.

Stiles turns back to them as Scott turns a disinterested eye on him, and Stiles retreats into the kitchen. He stops at the sink and catches his reflection in the mirror. He just needs to suck it up and ask them. The worst they can do is say no.

Stiles walks with purpose back into the living room, stops in front of the television, and addresses the bland faces before him.

“I understand that the last thing you want to do is help me. You all want an apology.” Stiles licks his lips. “I can’t  _ honestly  _ take back anything I said until Derek is back.”

A few heads dip, knowing he’s telling the truth.

“I understand if you don’t want to help me, but I need to see Derek,” Stiles’ voice cracks over his name. “I need...I don’t have the same connection you do. I can’t--” Stiles clenches a hand at his side as his eyes brim with salt. “I need to hear his voice.”

They remain silent, exchanging glances.

Stiles tries to think of how to convince them to help him without making it personal, even though this is every bit personal. It’s not fair that he kicks them around, and then comes crying to them.

They look back up at him, same blank faces. The same blank look he’s been giving all of them.

“Please…” Stiles tries. “I just-- please?” The sting in his eyes threaten to fall over, and he can’t make eye contact. His eyes dart around as he crosses his arms tight over his chest, while his foot bounces a new rhythm. 

He’s not even sure they are looking at him anymore, so he nods his defeat.

“Okay, alright. It’s fine,” he tells himself before heading back toward his room. He makes it as far as his bed and finally allows himself a moment of tears. He’s closed his door to make sure that any further action on his part isn’t seen as manipulation. 

The emptiness he feels in his and Derek’s room is palpable. The bed remains cold behind him, the air still. The only sound being his harsh breathing as he slowly disintegrates.

He doesn’t deserve their help. He doesn’t deserve  _ anything _ .

He’s just being selfish. He just needs to find Peter, and save Derek. After he saves Derek, he can see Derek for the rest of his life because there is no chance in hell Stiles is  _ ever  _ letting him back out of their house.

If Derek can’t keep himself alive, then Stiles will take things into his own hands. Derek nearly got himself killed by the Alphas in the hospital where Stiles somehow saved him last year. He nearly died a few days ago on a cot in their home, and now he’s allowed himself to be kidnapped and is possibly dying while Stiles lies alone in their bed because he can’t  _ fix this _ .

Tears drain out of him without resistance, but he doesn’t make a sound. It’s silent, and loaded with pain.

Stiles pulls the comforter over him and convinces himself he can still smell Derek in the fibres.

He covers his face when he hears the door open. He doesn’t want them to see him like this. He’s supposed to be figuring this out, he gave them hell for moping, and here he lies in bed in a puddle of his own tears.

“What do you need?” Jackson asks, only his voice lacks the usual level of jackassery.

Stiles remains silent because he can’t trust his own voice.

Jackson steps further into the room. “I want to help.”

Eventually, Stiles peaks out and finds Jackson sitting at the end of his bed looking more sincere than ever before. If Stiles weren’t so desperate, he’d question the alien taking up residence in Jackson’s skin.

“What you said,” Jackson says, fiddling with his fingers, “about us giving up. You weren’t  _ wrong _ .” 

Stiles swallows.

Jackson looks him in the eye. “I don’t want to sit by and do nothing. How can I  _ help _ ?”

It’s only a matter of minutes before the others slowly trickle into the room, and offer their assistance as well. 

As much as Stiles wants to break down, he manages to shove his tears away and explain to them that he needs to use their magic to see Derek, and that it’s purely selfish. 

He tells them that maybe after seeing him he will be able to think clearly, and come up with a plan. Maybe even get an idea of where Derek is, but he isn’t counting on Derek to know where he is, or be able to tell by his surroundings. He doesn’t promise that his attempt to contact Derek will help them find him. He makes sure they understand it’s selfish.

They agree to let him try.

* * *

Derek’s trying to ignore the sound of his veins rubbing together like sandpaper as his body dehydrates. It’s only a matter of days before the wolfsbane will finish it’s work. 

When he hears Stiles’ voice he’s sure he’s hallucinating again. 

“Derek? I don’t think this is working,” Stiles mumbles.

Derek opens his eyes only to find his dark prison, so he’s only hallucinating  _ sound  _ this time.

“Derek?” Stiles asks again.

Derek closes his eyes and listens to Stiles’ soft timbre of frustration.

“Derek!” Stiles calls near by, and Derek tries to imagine he  _ is _ . They are home in their room, and Stiles is just calling out to him as he heads downstairs to ask for a snack.

Derek smiles weakly at the memories.

“Open your eyes.” 

Derek does as he’s told on instinct, needing to satisfy Stiles until his dying breath even in fantasy.

Stiles is standing across the dark room with wide eyes.

Derek offers him a soft smile, “You really should cut your hair.”

Stiles chokes on a laugh.

Derek hates the sight of the dingey room around Stiles. His previous hallucinations have all been kind to him. Placing them in their home, at Stiles’ dads, with family, or under the sun. Stiles shouldn’t be  _ here _ .

In his previous hallucinations he’s also not tied to a chair and on the edge of death.

This one is all too cruel to Derek’s psyche.

Derek traces the lines of Stiles’ body with his eyes, his skin glowing. “I want five kids. I want to open a business. I want to come home to you, and you to come home to me,” Derek lists all the things he dared to dream of in their future. “I wanted to cook you breakfast every morning-”

“Wanted?” Stiles asks, stepping forward.

“-I wanted to teach our children how to swim in the creek behind our house. I wanted to spoil Berica. I wanted to wake up to you-” Derek continues trying to force all of his dreams out, because if there was one person who wouldn’t judge him for frivolous dreams, it would be Stiles.

“Derek!” Stiles shouts, dropping to his knees in front of him. “Hey, listen to me!”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Derek chokes looking in the deepest crevices of Stiles’ eyes. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“So don’t!” Stiles sniffs, his hands ghosting over his shoulders like he’s afraid to touch him. “I’m right here; I’m not going anywhere.”

“I just need you to know…” Derek coughs. “Before it’s too late. I need you to know how happy you’ve made me.”

Stiles starts crying, ugly broken sobs.

Derek shakes his head at how cruel this hallucination is being. In the others, he only looked on Stiles’ smile and bright eyes. His easy approach to life before Derek brought him into this chaos.

“Derek.” Stiles sucks in a harsh breath. “I’m really here. It’s  _ me _ .”

Derek realizes that this really isn’t like any of his dreams and hallucinations. He looks around immediately for signs of Peter, finding sobriety. “Stiles, you have to leave. Peter will be back any minute.” He leaves out the part about how Peter has literally shred him to pieces over the last two days.

Stiles opens his mouth to speak, but only a short sob comes out. He reaches his hand all the way toward Derek, his eyes focussed on where it’s heading.

Derek looks down to watch, needing Stiles’ skin on his, only when their skin meets Stiles’ hand disappears within his chest.

Stiles chokes on a sob, his hands falling to the ground beside him. “I’m not…I’m not  _ really  _ here. I’m just traveling.”

Derek shushes him, wishing he could reach out and wrap him in his arms. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s  _ not  _ okay,” Stiles cries, tears falling freely. “ _ Nothing _ is  _ okay _ !”

Derek watches as his mate falls apart in front of him, unable to free him.

“I need you to come home. I can’t-- I’m not  _ you _ . I can’t take care of everyone like you do. I’m selfish and hateful and cranky, and I just can’t fucking do it  _ without  _ you.” Stiles looks up to Derek with glistening eyes. “You have to  _ hold on _ . We’re coming for you.”

Derek swallows thickly. “You have to go. I love you, but you have to go. It’s not safe.”

Stiles straightens himself up. “No, I need to see…” Stiles starts looking over Derek’s body. “Did he-- is that  _ wolfsbane _ ?!”

Derek manages a weak nod. “Don’t worry about me. Go.” His wolf insists he send Stiles away, make him leave for good, while his weaker side wants to cling to Stiles until the light fades for good.

Stiles is tracing the raised veins of poison along Derek’s shoulders, his lips pursing. “I’m going to fucking  _ kill him,  _ Derek.”

Derek turns his head to get a better look at Stiles. “No, Stiles, please. Don’t trust him, whatever deal he’s made you…don’t listen. He’s going to kill all of us. You need to get as far away as you can.”

Stiles starts walking around the room trying to get an idea of where he might be, but all they can see is dirt and darkness. “We have a plan. I’m going to find you.”

“Don’t tell me.” Derek coughs, growing weaker. “Peter’s an alpha he can access my-” Derek cuts off as he hacks up another ounce of tar.

Stiles reaches to comfort Derek, forgetting he can’t touch. He drops his hands to his side. “We’re coming for you. I  _ will  _ find you.”

“Please Stiles, leave town.”

“Shut up. I just tore into the others because they were acting like you were already dead. I can’t listen to you do it, too.”

“You’ll be okay,” Derek tells him, wishing he could have one more kiss, one more  _ anything _ .

“You can’t stop me.” Stiles crosses his arms, tears finally stopping. “I  _ will  _ save you.”

“And I love you for trying,” Derek whispers, ”but you have to  _ let me go _ .”

Stiles falls a step back. ”I  _ can’t  _ do that.”

“Go,  _ please _ , Stiles.”

“Derek,  _ stop… _ ”

“You have to go. Let me save you.” Derek pleads, “You’ve saved me more than once, now it’s my turn. Let me go, and get far away from here where Peter can’t find you.”

Stiles bares his teeth. ”You can’t actually believe I could ever just  _ let you die _ , Derek. This is the third time I’ve come this close to losing you; I can’t go through that again. You don’t know what it’s like to lose…” Stiles snaps his mouth shut to keep from crying out. 

Derek drops his head, ashamed that he’s gotten himself into these situations so many times without thinking about what it could do to his mate. If only he had listened to Stiles and not run into the preserve. “I know. I’m sorry I’m not stronger.”

“Stop it,” Stiles snaps.

“Just go. Get everyone out of here. Leave!” Derek resorts to yelling as loud as he can since nothing else will get through to Stiles.

“No!” Stiles shouts right back, loose tears trickling down his face. “You’re being an idiot! You just have to hold on until we can find you. We have a  _ plan _ !”

Derek watches Stiles beg, and he wants so badly to trust Stiles, to tell him to find him, to save him, but Derek can’t be the reason Stiles dies.

Stiles starts to flicker out of sight, but his voice still rings through. “What are you guys doing? I’m not done!”

Derek understands that his betas are trying to pull him back for some reason.

“You heard all that?”

Derek realizes he’s only getting one side of the conversation when Stiles continues.

“Oh, just me.”

“He’s being stupid and keeps telling us to leave town.”

“I know, he’s a fucking moron. As if we would ever give up on him.”

“Now help me get back.”

Stiles comes back into view and tells Derek with stern eyes that bar no argument, that they are coming for him. That he  _ will  _ find a way to make Derek stronger before the Blood Moon.

Derek hears Peter coming down the steps, so he only nods at Stiles. 

Stiles walks over and bends down; unable to achieve skin to skin contact, he still ghosts his lips over Derek’s and promises him he will be back.

After Stiles blinks out of sight and Peter rounds the corner, Derek prays to all that is holy that Stiles does what he’s told for once and lets Derek die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have read past works of mine, you can't pretend you didn't see the angst coming. I can write the fluffiest of fluff, but I also indulge in the darker side ;) even on my death bed.
> 
> I've been ironing out the last chapter for the last few weeks which I expect to come in at over 12k words alone, so bear with me. Due to my extended hospital stay, frequent naps, inability to get comfortable, and numerous other things, the final chapter will definitely take longer to put out, I'm so sorry for the delay. Believe me, no one is as disappointed that I didn't achieve my 12 Days of Christmas deadline than I am.
> 
> Thank you all for understanding. I'm going to take a nap now. -___-


	12. I'll wreck this if I have to.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuunnnn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! I'll talk more in the end notes.
> 
> This chapter title comes from [Masterpiece Thetre](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xZmTR77r3g) by Marianas Trench. (I INSIST YOU LISTEN!)

 

Peter watched from the road outside the Hale house as Stiles found a way to draw the wolfsbane from his pack, that was the first time Stiles had ever  _ truly  _ surprised Peter in the last year. 

Peter knew that Stiles’ magic would be able to fight off the Water Hemlock, and he intended to use the wolfsbane cure for the pack as a bargaining chip to start the process of getting his blood that he needed for the ritual. When he lost that bargaining chip, he immediately sought out a new route of option.

While Stiles healed, the rest of the Hale pack was sure to stick close, leaving Peter unable to kidnap one of them as new leverage.

Soon Peter realized the one person Stiles had left unprotected was Deaton. Peter staked Deaton out until the first time the vet left his clinic unprotected and made off with him into the woods where he’s miraculously not been found for over a year.

Deaton asked questions constantly, but Peter had little time for this. Deaton was only a means to an end, and that was that. Peter knew that between Stiles and Derek, one of them would seek him out and bargain for Deaton’s life.

With little surprise, it’s Derek who runs headfirst into the woods without back up and that’s when the fun truly begins and Peter finds his July ritual right back on track. 

Derek will always be Stiles weakness, and now Peter had him.

* * *

* * *

The pack rests in Stiles’ and Derek’s bed after Stiles has siphoned their magic. Stiles is hoping everything will be okay and they will recover easily. Stiles and Lydia make their way downstairs to cook so the wolves can replenish their energy when they wake. 

Lydia remains silent while they prep a pot roast and only addresses Stiles once it’s in the oven. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Hm?” Stiles asks, looking back at her after throwing the oven mitt on the counter.

“Seeing Derek, did it give you the push you needed to figure this out?” she asks.

Stiles chews on his lip as his eyes wander out the back window. It did, but not in the way he hoped. Instead of finding Derek alive and well, he found Derek giving up. He has to find a way to leach the wolfsbane out of Derek’s system, or he may succumb to the poison before the Blood Moon even begins to rise. 

“Stiles?” Lydia asks, frustration bleeding into her voice at the thought of being ignored again. “Answer me.”

Stiles turns to her. “Sorry, yeah, I was just thinking.”

Lydia nods, coming to lean against the counter beside him and look out at the backyard. “How bad is he?”

Stiles flashes back to the image of Derek in his mind. The pack passed out shortly after he returned, and Lydia has remained quiet until now. No one knows how bad it is yet.

“Come  _ on, Stiles _ ,” she groans. “You have to give me something. I understand you are going through a lot right now, but please let me in.”

Stiles nods keeping his eyes averted. He doesn’t feel as though he’s going to break but after seeing Derek, he knows how dire their situation is. He can’t afford to lose control if he ever wants to see Derek back in their home again. “He’s really bad, Lyds.”

She places her hand over his on the edge of the sink.

“Peter’s poisoned him, and from the looks of it, Derek doesn’t have long. If I don’t find a way to reverse the effects through traveling, there’s a good chance Derek won’t make it to the Blood Moon,” Stiles admits, his chest seizing at the thought. 

“He’s strong, Stiles,” Lydia comforts him.

Stiles looks at her from under his lashes. “Then why is he giving up?”

She purses her lips, holding back false hope, and instead slips her arm under his and pulls him into a hug.

Stiles drops his head to her shoulder-- his muscles tired, but his mind soaring. “We have to find a way to pull the poison out through traveling. It’s the only idea I have.”

She pats his back. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Stiles clings to her a little longer. 

“Now, listen to me, Stiles,” she says, her voice brooking no arguments. “You are going to call Wiki.”

“I can’t-” Stiles tries to argue because he hasn’t changed his mind. He  _ will _ kill Peter.

“Yes, you can,” she insists, pulling away to level him with stern eyes. “You’ve asked questions without divulging sensitive information before; you can do it again.”

Stiles blinks at her, unsure if he can pull it off. Wiki will know something’s up.

“You can call her, tell her that we are all okay, but as the Blood Moon nears, you can’t help but worry that Peter will try to kidnap one of us to use as leverage.” 

Stiles purses his lips, hating that he hadn’t actually made this call before. You know what they say about hindsight.

She continues, “See what she says. She might provide you with ways to prevent a kidnap. Listen to what she says, so she doesn’t realize it’s already happened, and then lead into contingency plans in case somehow it does.” 

The corners of Stiles’ mouth turn down. “It’s scary how good you are at this.”

She flips her hair. “Please, I’ve been manipulating people since I was a toddler throwing tantrums to get my way. It’s a gift.”

Stiles shakes his head as she walks to the fridge to fill a pitcher of iced water for the wolves. 

When they make it back to the bedroom, Lydia is already dropping fresh mint leaves and other healing herbs into the mixture. Once she’s satisfied that that she has all the right herbs added, she presents the pitcher to Stiles. “Okay, Sparkie, do your thing.”

Stiles gapes at her. “Did you just call me  _ Sparkie?” _

She laughs, “Just do it.”

Stiles grins reaching a hand out to activate the mixture. “You know these herbs still possess healing properties without my spark, right?”

She clicks her tongue. “Of course I do. Who do you think brewed all your teas while you were recovering?” she asks. ”It’s stronger when you add your spark to it, though.”

Stiles nods, sparking the container. “Pretty soon, you’ll be the brains of this operation.”

“I already am.” She smiles, turning to place the pitcher on the bedside table with a stack of cups. 

* * *

 

Stiles leaves Lydia to watch over their pack, while he goes downstairs to call Wiki.

“Stiles?” she answers. “Is everything okay?”

Stiles takes a deep breath. ”Yes, everyone’s fine.”

“Good,” she breathes. “What’s up?”

“I’m just nervous about the Blood Moon. It’s only three days away, and I’m afraid Peter will try to take someone to use as leverage. I hate waiting,” Stiles offers, not wanting to lay it on too thick.

She sighs, but her voice remains tense. “From what I’ve heard about this Peter guy, I can understand your worry.”

Stiles nervously adjusts a pillow on the sofa to disperse some of his excess energy.

“Well, as long as you all stay within the house, you should be okay.”

“Right, but some of us work, and can’t take time off. We hope he wouldn’t try anything in public, but…”

“Desperate times,” she concludes.

“Right.” Stiles agrees.

“I don’t know. The best I can say is keep everyone home.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “We’ll try. If he did take one of my pack, how would I go about finding them?”

“My mom gave you a scrying crystal, right? Do you know how to use one?”

“Yes, and I think so,” Stiles answers, thinking about how his crystal couldn’t locate Derek.

“It’s fairly simple. You just concentrate on the person you’re looking for and as long as they aren’t  _ trying _ to hide, then you should be able to find them.”

This just pisses Stiles off. How dare Derek think he can  _ block  _ Stiles?! They are going to have a  _ serious talk _ when he gets home. “And if that doesn’t work?”

“It would work,” Wiki counters.

“I’m sure,” Stiles amends, “but I have a few martyrs in my pack who might not be found so easily.”

She considers this a moment. “Well, when I couldn’t find you by scrying, I traveled.”

“I remember,” Stiles adds conversationally, “but that took a lot out of you.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “And it’s a very limited act. There are a lot of rules while astral projecting.”

“Like?” 

“You’re asking a lot of questions.”

“It’s just the nerves; talking through the possibilities helps me stay centered. Like I said, the waiting is killing me,” Stiles amends.

“At least this information could be useful in the future, right?” She laughs.

“Right.”

“Well, when traveling, you already know not to eat or drink anything in the otherworlds, but do you know why?”

“Nope.”

“If your spirit allows itself to attach to anything astral, then part of your spirit will remain trapped in the otherworlds. Which is why you are only encouraged to observe, and in some cases communicate, but never consume anything. Another thing that can prevent you from leaving the otherworlds is injury. Your spirit can be hurt while traveling. Say you come across a wrathful spirit in the otherworlds. If they were to draw blood in any way, your spirit would be unable to leave because it wouldn’t be able to slip back into your body the same. It’s a concept of returning something in the same condition it was lent out.”

Stiles has no idea how to wrap his mind around this. “So that’s why you insisted we come to your house; because you couldn’t do anything to help me,” Stiles says, thinking out loud.

“Right. If I had tried to physically help in anyway, you could have been stuck in the otherworlds.”

“But I was already astral projecting,” Stiles reminds her. 

“I didn’t know that, though,” she reminds him. “Even if I did, I couldn’t have done anything. You saw how tedious it was to heal you, but that was a rarity. Most travelers do not project when ill, because of the concept we discussed earlier. In past cases where someone projected out of their body while unwell, they were unable to return to their body after it healed because the body no longer matched the spirit.”

Even though Stiles knows he’s fine, this still scares the hell out of him. “So I could have never woken up?”

“Yes. My mother is still trying to figure out how you did it, but we think it has to do with the amount of power you have. You are exceptionally strong, Stiles.”

Stiles clears his throat, still not wanting to tell them where he got the extra power from. “Okay, so if one of my pack were to go missing, and I couldn’t find them by scrying, I would travel. Could I…I don’t know…help them escape? Heal them if they were hurt? How does it work if I’m traveling in the real world versus the otherworlds?”

“The rules sort of flip. You can’t alter any of the physical in the world of the living, same as you can’t alter the spiritual in the otherworlds.”

“Explain?” Stiles is thoroughly confused.

“Think of it in terms of visiting the  _ spirit  _ of the living. If you alter anything for  _ their  _ spirit, then they cannot reconnect with their body, and your efforts only serve to trap their spirit.”

Shit. “Okay, so no doors and escape things. Got it. What if they were hurt, though. If I used my magic, could I heal both the body and the spirit so that they didn’t separate?”

“I’ve never heard of a successful attempt,” she admits. “I wouldn’t recommend it unless there was no other option.” 

Stiles decides he has all the answers he needs, and isn’t satisfied with any of them in terms of helping Derek.

“Alright. So, bottom line, don’t get kidnapped.”

“Don’t get kidnapped,” She agrees, laughing bitterly.

“Thank you for all your advice, Wiki. I can’t tell you how much help you’ve been,” Stiles says truthfully.

“Don’t mention it. I’m happy to help,” she says. “Call me if you need anything else…unless you had more questions now?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you. I should go wrap up dinner.”

“Stay safe, Stiles. We’ll see you in three days.”

“See you,” Stiles says, before hanging up and settling down to figure out a plan B.

* * *

 

While the others rest, Stiles keeps busy scrying at his desk, looking for both Derek and the blood he’s just given Peter. His crystal sparks a line into the preserve, before stopping abruptly and spitting sporadic flames all over the map as the connection is lost.

Stiles sighs, but adds the map to his pile of failed attempts. He’s spent hours looking at them side by side and can’t pinpoint a specific location yet.

Stiles prints out another map to try again. Maybe it’s just a section of the map, and Peter will come out on the other side somehow. Instead, the crystal ignites on the road leading to the house. He continues scrying, intrigued. Peter has no reason to come back to the house until tomorrow for more blood. The crystal sparks on the preserve like before indicating that Peter is still somewhere out there.

Then it clicks. His dad.

Stiles stands to head downstairs, and Lydia lifts her head from where she’s lying on the bed beside Jackson. Stiles holds out a hand. “My dad is coming over, I’ll meet him downstairs.”

She nods, her head already falling back to a pillow. “Let me know if you need me.”

“Will do.” Stiles salutes.

Stiles greets his dad on the porch.

“Hey, kiddo, how’d you know I was coming?” His dad asks as he ascends the steps.

Stiles wraps his dad in a much-needed hug. “Magic.”

His dad shakes his head as he follows Stiles through the house and out to the back porch. They sit a moment before his dad starts a conversation with a somber tone. “Chris told me about Derek.”

Stiles looks down at his lap where his fingers twist restlessly. “Yeah.”

“How are you holding up, son?”

Stiles huffs an unamused laugh. “I’m not.” He’s honestly doing his best not to think about it. He’s just focussing on  _ finding _ Derek, and pretending the consequences for failure doesn’t exist.

His dad reaches over to squeeze his shoulder. “That’s okay.”

Stiles looks over at his dad, comforted by his presence.

“It hasn’t been easy accepting the whole supernatural situation,” his dad says with a swirl of his hand, “But you’ll figure this out. I’ve seen your talent firsthand.”

Stiles shakes his head. “My  _ talents _ include  avoiding difficult conversations and getting really sad over things I saw coming.” Stiles looks back at his hands, cuticles shredded and bloody from how much he’s chewed on them since Derek’s been gone.

His dad sighs. “Is there any way I can help?”

Stiles thinks it over before shaking his head. “Just being here helps.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere,” his dad promises.

* * *

 

The pack wake up shortly after Stiles pulls the roast out of the oven. They make their way downstairs while he sets the table and take their seats. Stiles places extra settings for his dad and Chris, who should be showing up soon.

After checking with each beta, he determines that it takes about six hours for them to replenish their energy after his siphoning, which is useful information. They remain as supportive as they were before they passed out and ask him when he wants to go back. 

Stiles can’t hold back his smile at having confirmation that he hasn’t ruined his relationship with the pack with the way he’s been lashing out. “I’m not sure yet. Chris is on his way over to help me work through a problem.”

“What problem?” Jackson asks, while chewing through a large chunk of roast.

Stiles dishes out the last few bowls before answering. They all passed out too soon to hear that Derek’s been poisoned. They only got Stiles’ half of the conversation. “Peter’s poisoned Derek with wolfsbane, and if we don’t figure out how to reverse it, he might not make it to the Blood Moon,” Stiles says, updating everyone quickly.

Jackson swallows quickly. “What can I do?”

Stiles assesses Jackson a moment, reflecting on how this isn’t the first time he’s made it clear that he wants to help. “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know.”

Jackson accepts his answer with a nod before returning to his food.

Once Chris arrives, they apprise him of the current situation, and then Stiles explains to the entire group what he discussed with Wiki.

Lydia carries her bowl to the sink. “So how do you heal both his body and spirit at the same time? She said it’s risky.”

Stiles sighs. “I know. But she also said it’s a last resort strategy, and this feels pretty last ditch to me.”

“I know,” she agrees, sitting back down with her arms crossed. “Maybe if you keep your spirit from interacting with his specifically, you can do it. So instead of focussing on making yourself corporeal when you see him, focus on what you are going to do with your magic.”

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles nods, thinking it through. “That could work.”

“Do you think you could draw the poison out from a distance?” She asks, while the others look between them, hoping they stumble on a solution.

“I don’t know. I haven’t tried it, obviously. I’ve only reversed aconite poisoning that one time.” Stiles chews his cuticle.

Jackson speaks up, “You can test it on me.”

This grabs everyone's attention.

“You’re not poisoned, are you?” Lydia asks, looking her boyfriend up and down.

Jackson shakes his head. “No, but Chris probably has some wolfsbane in his truck.”

Stiles shakes his head before standing to gather the empty bowls. “No. We’re not poisoning you. Not to mention if it doesn’t work, I will have to do it the other way and then I will be sick again. We can’t lose that kind of time.”

Chris speaks up, “Actually, if it doesn’t work, then I can reverse the effects in seconds because, unlike the other day, we will know the strain of wolfsbane.”

Stiles pauses, looking around for another argument, because as much as Jackson pisses him off he doesn’t want to poison him. No one offers an alternative.

Lydia clicks her tongue. “You made a good point, though, Stiles. If you absorb Derek’s poison, you could end up sick again.”

“So I need to figure out how to pull the poison out, but not take it in,” Stiles concludes leaning against the sink, knowing this is the best option they have right now. “Magic sucks.”

* * *

 

Jackson insists on poisoning himself so Stiles can test his theory. He tells them he’d rather it be him than someone else in the pack. If Derek is as bad as Stiles says, they can’t risk making him worse by getting the procedure wrong.

Chris brings his bag of hunter goodies upstairs to Stiles’ room. “I figure we need something strong so it will spread quickly to test this better.”

Stiles looks to Jackson. It is his decision, after all.

Jackson nods his approval with his eyes locked on Lydia. He pulls his shirt off. “So, how’re we doing this?”

Chris walks over with a wolfbane dipped blade. “With this potency, we should only have to nick your arm for it to enter your system.”

Stiles bites his nails across the room. “You know I hate how you can kill my pack with a small nick of a blade, right?”

Chris smirks. “As long as you’re around, you don’t have to worry about that, now do you?”

Stiles gives a theatrical sigh. “Doesn’t make me feel better.”

Jackson leans against Stiles’ desk with Lydia holding his hand out in front of him. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Chris nods, walking over with the blade and hovering over the underside of his forearm.

“Don’t just nick me, get a couple inches, just to be sure.”

“It’s really not--” Chris starts to argue.

“Just do it.”

Chris obeys and drags the blade a good three inches before Jackson nearly falls to his knees with the entry of poison into his system.

Lydia remains in front of him, their eyes locked.

Stiles walks over next, hands already sparking with nerves of screwing this up. He cracks his knuckles. “Okay. Alright. Okay.”

Stiles remains a few feet away and waits for the stark black lines to begin their webs across Jackson’s arm before he attempts anything. Once it’s clear the poison’s spreading, Stiles holds his hands out and closes his eyes. He pictures his spark entering the wound and neutralizing the toxins within Jackson’s body.

The room grows silent around him as his spark crackles between himself and Jackson.

Stiles opens his eyes and pauses for Jackson to give him the okay. 

Jackson nods, and Stiles reaches out with his spark. The erratic bolts tame into channelled points of connection and enter his wound, just as he visualised. After a moment, Stiles’ throat dries and his skin heats, his magic already draining him. 

Scott comes up beside him, placing a strong hand on his shoulder. “Use me.” 

Stiles meets his eyes before agreeing. He focusses on their contact and siphons magic from his best friend.

They watch the spark disappear within Jackson, who’s fighting his shift and keeping his eyes locked on his anchor: Lydia.

The lightning travels up the dark network of lines, igniting in quick succession as it meets the toxin. It’s like a firework show dancing beneath Jackson’s skin.

Stiles does this until the lightning stops, and then pulls his spark back out of the wound.

Jackson falls all the way to floor and regains control of his breathing, and Scott collapses on the bed to rest.

Isaac comes to Stiles’ side. “How do you feel?”

Stiles takes a moment to assess his own strength. “I think I’m okay.”

As dangerous as the last few minutes have been, they’re all relieved that they didn’t make things worse and exchange smiles all around. Jackson and Scott included.

* * *

 

Finding Derek by projection is easier the second time and Stiles only has to wait a few seconds before he’s standing in front of him.

Derek’s head hangs limply, and his skin hasn’t been this ashen since the night he demanded Stiles cut his arm off. 

Stiles drops to his knees, careful not to interact with Derek physically. “Derek? Oh God, Derek, please be alive.”

Stiles finds Derek’s eyes, and can see his pupils moving around behind his lids as he dreams. Stiles lets out a massive gust of relief. “Thank God.” Stiles considers Derek’s condition before he tries to rouse him. 

Derek definitely won’t make it to the Blood Moon, he’s not even sure he’ll make it the night. 

“Derek?” Stiles tests quietly, not wanting to startle him. There’s no telling what kind of wakeup calls Derek has gotten from Peter. “Derek, I need you to wake up for me.”

Derek’s breathing changes as he’s slowly drawn toward the surface.

“That’s right, there you go. Come on.” Stiles bites his tongue, watching Derek slowly find consciousness.

Derek’s eyes slip open to see Stiles, and a small smile spreads over his face. “I don’t know why you’re so worried about hyphenating, but if it really bothers you, I’ll take your last name,” Derek argues, his amusement at odds with their environment.

Stiles blinks at him, “What? Derek, wake up.”

“Derek Alexander Stilinski.” Derek laughs. 

Stiles wants nothing more than to lean forward and kiss the words right out of Derek's mouth. He can't do that though, and they have limited time. “Dammit, Derek, I can't focus with you talking about taking my last name. Wake the fuck up, asshole.”

“‘M not an asshole.” Derek pouts, his head dropping forward with exhaustion.

Stiles bites his lips with a groan and his frustration seems to alert Derek, who blinks rapidly before meeting his eyes. 

“Stiles? I told you to leave, you can't be here,” Derek stresses. 

“And I told  _ you  _ I wasn't going anywhere.”

“Because you're a stubborn asshole,” Derek mumbles. 

Stiles doesn't argue, knowing it's true. “How did Peter get the wolfsbane in your system?” 

“Which time?” Derek scoffs morbidly. 

Stiles bites his tongue and imagines all the ways he's going to obliterate Peter. 

Derek looks down and Stiles follows his eyes as they pan across his skin, where black, open wounds remain unstitched.

“I swear to you, Derek. Peter will pay for what he's done to you,” Stiles promises as he stands, ready to leach the poison out. 

Derek’s head falls back, and his half-lidded eyes watch Stiles focus on igniting his spark. 

Only his spark doesn't ignite. Stiles tries harder, but nothing he does allows his magic to manifest. 

He can't do this. 

“Derek…it's not…I can’t…” Stiles stutters, looking down at his traitorous hands.

“It's okay, Stiles,” Derek mutters through pale, cracked lips.

The walls feel as though they are caving in around him. “No, it’s  _ not _ , Derek. Nothing is okay! You're going to  _ die _ !” 

“I know,” Derek whispers. “My body’s already shutting down.”

Stiles falls forward as all the hope he’s clung to vanishes. It takes a minute for him to register torn denim against his forearms. Stiles looks up to find Derek looking down, eyes just as wide. 

“I can feel that…” Derek whispers. 

With the rollercoaster of emotions Stiles has been on, he finds himself laughing maniacally before climbing into Derek's lap and grabbing his face to kiss him desperately. 

Derek leans into him, moaning with the contact. He can't move his arms, but that doesn't seem to bother them much because after days apart, and the fear they would never feel each other's touch again, they are finally skin to skin. 

Derek bites Stiles’ lip. “I love you so fucking much, Stiles. Don't ever forget that.”

Stiles gasps, the air leaving his lungs. “Don’t. Stop talking. You're not going to die.” Stiles ignores the scrape of Derek’s blistered lips scratching his and makes it his mission to rehydrate Derek’s mouth with his own. He’s not sure that would work, considering he can’t taste or smell anything, only feel. Still, he considers touching Derek a win because moments ago they didn’t even have that.

Stiles looks beside Derek's head to see his hands start to flicker out of view. 

“Derek, I have to go,” Stiles tells him. Knowing the longer he stays the more he siphons from the pack. “Promise me you will hold on. Don't give up. Let me  _ find you _ .” 

Derek nods, his head bumping against Stiles’. 

“ _ Promise _ me.”

Derek rubs their noses together. “I promise.”

* * *

 

Boyd and Isaac pass out after Stiles returns to his body. Jackson and Scott were already sleeping from Stiles’ siphoning and wolfsbane test an hour ago. Erica wasn’t allowed to offer any power because Stiles worried it would hurt the baby, and she has little energy as it is. She spends the majority of her days taking naps now that the pregnancy has caught up with her.

Lydia meets his eyes when they eventually land on her. “He’s going to  _ die _ ?” she asks, her voice trembling.

Stiles sucks his lips behind his teeth. He has to be smart about this. If he tells the pack Derek will die, they’ll focus their attention on Stiles, expecting him to break. 

Stiles  _ isn’t _ going to break.

He’s going to move his timeline forward, and kill Peter before the Blood Moon.

Derek  _ will _ come home.

Tears threaten Lydia’s eyes the longer Stiles lets the silence stretch. 

Stiles shakes his head and lies. “No, I was just emotional, and couldn’t get my magic to work at first. He’s fine.”

She wipes at her eyes, “Are you sure? My feelings haven’t gone away.”

Stiles squints at her, her ‘feelings’ seem to be coming up a lot lately. “Feelings? Like your bad, someone’s going to die, feelings?”

She nods. “I hoped that after you leached the poison out of Derek it would go away, or at least get better…but….”

Stiles thinks back to her recent feelings and how accurate they have been. He remembers waking up to Lydia panting and reaching for him to make sure he was okay because she could  _ hear him choking and gasping _ \- which is  _ exactly what happened _ . “Lydia, I think it’s time we talk about these feelings you get. You may not be psychic, but you’re  _ something. _ Tell me what you are feeling right  _ now _ . Have you had any dreams? Are you hearing things this time too? Or is it just the feeling?”

She wipes her nose. “I keep hearing Derek using his alpha howl, and you saying that it’s okay.”

* * *

 

Stiles calls Allison while Lydia keeps herself busy in the kitchen making drinks for when the wolves wake up and stew for later.

“Stiles,” Allison answers, slightly tense. All of Stiles conversations with her since Derek went missing have been pretty hostile because of his frustration at the failure of the tracking device. 

“Figure anything out, yet?” Stiles asks just as stiff, unable to ignore the situation even though he knows Allison and her dad didn’t do this on purpose.

“No, we’ve been breaking the code down piece by piece and there’s no reason the device shouldn’t work. Unless it’s damaged,” she answers.

Stiles thinks back to the image of Derek strapped to the chair and can see both necklaces hanging around his neck. “No, he still has it on, and it looks fine.”

Allison clicks her tongue. “Then maybe Peter is using a signal scrambler… It’s not our tech, Stiles. I promise you, it’s not. There’s something else blocking the signal.”

Stiles agrees, knowing she’s telling the truth. 

“Don’t you think that’s weird?” Allison asks.

“Think what’s weird?”

“That Derek still has the tracker on? If I was holding someone hostage, that would be the first thing I destroyed, or planted somewhere else as a diversion.”

* * *

 

Stiles waits until Lydia climbs into bed before he sets his new plan into motion.

Derek won’t make it to the Blood Moon, so Stiles has no choice but to resort to desperate measures.

With the pack snoring away in his and Derek’s bed, Stiles spreads out all the printouts of the preserve that he used in his failed attempts to track Peter. Each time Stiles handed Peter another vial of his blood, he would go straight to his room and start scrying. Within ten minutes, a trail would burn across the map showing Peter’s path. It always leads to the same place, but from there sparks would spit all over the map, much like the reader for Derek’s tracker did. 

The  _ good  _ news is that Stiles’ blood theory worked.

The  _ bad  _ news is he still doesn’t know where Peter is hiding Derek. 

They could be hiding just beyond the point where the scrying has failed, or it could be miles out, and there was no telling in which direction. 

Stiles assesses the maps side by side and looks for a pattern. He’s narrowed it down to a couple acres. He can’t just blindly walk to that point and search because Peter would pick up on him a mile away and would have time to prepare, flee, or bring the fight to Stiles, leaving Derek wherever he has been.

Stiles needs to find Derek  _ before  _ he deals with Peter.

Since his near death experience, Stiles has been researching the things he witnessed at Wiki’s house while in astral form. One of the things he focussed on was the significance of Wiki burning a bundle of herbs when she and her mom spoke privately.

He deduced that it was meant to keep Derek from listening in on the conversation, so it muted senses somehow. Stiles searched online forums and reached out to Deaton for further information. 

For once, Deaton gave Stiles the answers he needed. The herbs do dull hearing and scenting abilities, but only to a certain extent. Stiles couldn’t ask how to achieve the strength he needed without giving away his intentions, so he continued his research on his own.

He prepares two bundles of herbs. He combines ginseng root, juniper, lavender, and rosemary with hemp rope. Then he dips the bundles in an oil that’s supposed to help the magic focus and take immediate effect. Stiles pricks his finger last and lets his blood infuse with the dried herbs before sparking the first bundle.

Once the smoke starts to fill the room, Stiles watches his pack for movement; none move, and some even begin to snore louder. He waits a few minutes, letting the smoke filter throughout the room before he puts it to the real test.

“Are any of you awake?” Stiles asks. 

No answer.

“Hey, wake up.” Stiles tries, a little louder.

Snores.

“FIRE!” He finally shouts.

The only thing that results is a small twitch from Lydia’s hands.

Stiles doesn’t rejoice in his success because now he has no choice but to follow through with his plan. The coward in him was hoping this would fail. Without magic cloaking, he would never be able to sneak out of the house unnoticed.

Stiles takes a deep breath, places the smouldering herbs in a heatproof tray, hides the maps so they won’t be able to work out what he’s doing if they wake up, and then leaves them a note.

_ I’ve gone to find Derek. I wasn’t able to reverse the poison, and he won’t make it to the Blood Moon. Don’t follow me. I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of my magic.  _

_ No matter what happens to Derek and me, I will end Peter. He will never hurt any of you again.  _

_ -Stiles. _

He resists saying goodbye because he hasn’t given up. If all goes according to plan, Stiles will find Derek, free him, kill Peter, and lose his magic as payment. The only person dying will be Peter.

Stiles grabs the second bundle of herbs and makes his way to the preserve. His lit bundle of herbs will hopefully shield his presence from Peter until he can find Derek.

* * *

 

Stiles checks his GPS to see how close he’s gotten to the point where Peter always disappears; he’s half a mile out. He puts his phone away and keeps his slow pace to conserve his energy. He’s almost there, and as long as he finds Derek tonight, he can save him.

Stiles wishes his motivations weren’t as  clichéd  as they are.  _ Risking everything to save the one you love. _ It’s the truth, though.

He’s not concerned with the fact that without his magic, he will have little to offer his pack. He does fear that he’ll lose his connection to Derek. His magic is what mated him to Derek, not Stiles himself. If he loses his magic, he’s afraid his love for Derek will pale. He can’t imagine ever loving Derek any less, but good fortune hasn’t always been on their side.

He’s not worried about dying because Peter has to keep him alive until the ritual, and Stiles has confidence his magic can to do what needs to be done.

Peter  _ will _ die tonight.

As Stiles nears the disappearance point, he focusses on Derek. Their bond is supposed to keep them connected. With his presence muted, Stiles just needs to follow Derek’s pull, and he’ll find them.

Everything is going to be  _ fine _ . 

After he crosses the place where he’d lose Peter, Stiles closes his eyes and lets his feet lead the way. Concentrating on his connection to Derek, he blindly follows his instincts into the forest. Thirty minutes later his legs come to a stop and he opens his eyes. 

He finds himself hidden behind a cluster of trees with a small clearing ahead. 

Stiles squints into the night and catches movement. 

Peter.

Peter appears to be climbing out of a low tunnel, and Stiles is sure that Derek is there. He recognises the tug in his chest as the sensation that links him to Derek now. It’s pulling him towards where Peter now stands.

Stiles remains hidden to observe while Peter looks toward the moon, cracking his neck. This is his chance to kill Peter. Right now. Stiles just needs to manifest his magic and obliterate Peter right here, right now. It’s game time.

Just as Stiles stretches his hands out, Peter looks up and smiles in his direction.

“Stiles,” Peter says, as if pleasantly surprised. 

Stiles steps out from behind his trees holding his head high. 

Peter steps closer. “In my wildest dreams, I never thought  _ you  _ would appear on my metaphorical doorstep.”

“That’s not the only thing you weren’t expecting.” Stiles smirks, stepping closer to show how little fear Peter has instilled in him. 

Peter slowly circles Stiles. “You can’t  _ actually  _ believe I’ll let Derek go just because you came to me. That was never the deal.” Peter tsk’s with a click of his tongue.

Stiles doesn’t follow Peter’s motion and makes a straight line for him. “You can’t honestly think I would let you live after everything you’ve done.” Stiles pauses, letting his hands spark at his sides. “I’m not handing myself over. I’m here to  _ kill you _ ,” Stiles promises.

Peter cracks his neck, shifting into beta form. “You can  _ try _ .”

* * *

 

Derek struggles harder against his restraints than he has since the first day of his kidnapping, before Peter laced his entire system with wolfsbane. He felt Stiles get closer and hoped with everything left in him that it was just a figment of his imagination. He begged Stiles to stay away, to leave, to let him die. 

Derek was foolish to ever believe that Stiles would give up on him.

Derek remembers the night of the body swap, and the deep connection Stiles felt for him. He didn’t understand it then, but less than twelve hours later Sylwia confirmed that Stiles returned his own mating bond.

There was never a chance of Stiles giving up on Derek.

Stiles would always come for him.

Same as Derek would always risk everything for Stiles.

* * *

 

Stiles follows Peter with his eyes as he advances slowly, and feels the tiny pulses of electricity course through his veins, as his body prepares to deal Peter a lethal blow. 

Peter comes to an abrupt halt when Derek sounds off a call to his betas. The howl is deafening in the sleeping forest around them. Stiles thinks back to Lydia’s words about her  _ feelings _ . 

_ I keep hearing Derek using his alpha howl, and you saing it’s okay. _

Stiles keeps his focus on Peter as Derek’s call reverberates in the still pre dawn air. Much as he wanted to keep the rest of the pack out of this, he doesn’t feel irritated by Derek pulling them to the fight. If anything, he is reassured that his mate is still alive and within hearing distance. If he’s lucky, the bundle of herbs he left burning will block the sound of Derek’s call. 

Stiles just has to end Peter and then all of this will be over.

* * *

 

Blood vessels explode in Derek’s skull with his determination to free himself. He’s heard the first ball of fire soar through the forest, and it’s only a matter of time before Peter finds an opening in Stiles’ defenses.

Derek’s shoulders are both dislocated in his attempts to break out of his restraints, and he’s not even sure his legs will work if he were to get free. Over the last three days, he’s catalogued each nerve ending as it died from the poison. 

But he can’t give up now. Not with Stiles so close to Peter.

There’s blood in his teeth from how hard he’s biting his tongue. He can’t risk distracting Stiles with his distress, but his pain is insurmountable. 

He’s useless.

He’s a pathetic excuse for an alpha.

The pack is better off without him.

Derek sags against the ropes holding him down and accepts defeat. He can’t get free. Stiles is on his own.

Electricity fills the night air above him, and he listens for Stiles’ heart. Steady. Strong.

Stiles just might be able to pull this off. 

It’s another heartbeat that jerks Derek from his defeat. 

A small, barely there pattern that shouldn’t be anywhere near the battle taking place above his prison. 

Derek realizes he called it to him; he’s the reason they’re in danger. He can’t let his own desperation end something that hasn’t even had a chance yet. 

Derek calls on his wolf one last time, his eyes burning red, canines extending. 

Erica and her baby will  _ not _ die tonight.

* * *

 

The odor of charred flesh fills the small clearing between Stiles and Peter. Stiles knows that if he can get one good opening, he can finish this. He just has to wear Peter down.

Another agonised howl sounds from Derek below, and Stiles uses it to build another ball of lightning, ready to throw at the next opportunity, when a mass of black fur shoots between him and Peter.

Stiles blinks to find a massive black wolf with its canines bared, guarding him from Peter.

Peter stumbles back shaking his head. “No…”

“Derek…” Stiles smiles. “You did it.” His voice is barely audible, but even with the threat he faces, he has to take a moment to appreciate Derek’s victory. He did it. He made the full shift.

“Stiles!” 

Stiles flips around to find Erica standing a few feet behind him, already in a fighting stance. Of all the pack, it had to be her who heard her Alpha’s call over the cloaking of Stiles’ magic. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” Stiles shouts. “Go home! I’ve got this! Are you crazy!?  _ Go _ !” Stiles turns back to find Peter’s eyes on the vulnerable baby bump, and Stiles puts himself in front of Erica, his arms completely encased in live lightning. 

“I don’t even know why I’m here!” Erica screams back in distress, cradling her belly with both arms. “I just woke up and started running!”

Derek throws himself forward, taking Peter to the ground with a loud crash of broken bones. Whose bones, Stiles has no idea. The only thing he knows is he can’t leave Erica unprotected. Stiles watches Derek and Peter tumble through the dead leaves, flesh tearing and bones snapping. 

Peter manages to get on top, Derek in a chokehold and Stiles sets both arms of lightning at Peter’s back, knocking him off. 

“Derek! Run! Get Erica home!” Stiles demands, but as expected, Derek turns to face Peter again. 

Peter’s ready for him.

Stiles can only stand in horror as Peter’s fist plunges into Derek’s ribcage, the wolf hanging in the air and shifting back to Derek’s pale flesh. 

Derek looks over to Stiles with a whispered apology, and Peter smiles, knowing he’s won.

Stiles drops his arms, the sound of Erica’s cries deafening behind him. He could try one last time to kill Peter, throw one last bolt to eviscerate him from within, but that would kill Derek too. 

Knowing that he can’t let Derek die, Stiles holds eye contact as the light fades from Derek’s eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” Stiles lies, hearing Lydia’s words ring true in his mind.

* * *

 

One blink.

It’s only a blink.

One blink and Derek finds his center of gravity changed, and he’s looking on at himself with Peter’s fist in his chest.

He watches his own face blink back at him, and his lips form the words ‘I love you’ before they form a weak smile, and Peter rips his heart from his chest and the body falls to the ground.

Without thought, Derek flings himself across the clearing with Stiles’ loose limbs to fall at his body’s side.

It’s  _ his  _ body.

But it was  _ Stiles _ .

Stiles swapped their bodies in a last ditch effort to save Derek’s life.

Derek barely registers Peter gloating as he cradles the body to his chest. 

He can’t fix this.

_ Stiles is dead. _

* * *

 

Derek doesn’t know how much time has passed, all he knows is that everything is over. He can’t imagine moving forward without his mate. Stiles gave his life but  _ for what? _ Derek isn’t anything worth saving. He was ready to die. Stiles should be the one sitting here, alive and able to live his life. Stiles had such a bright future, he could have done anything, but instead he gave it all up for  _ what? _

Derek finds himself surrounded by his pack and belatedly realizes he should probably be more concerned with where Peter is, but he can’t focus on that right now.

Scott rubs his shoulders, pulling him bodily against him. “I’m so sorry.” 

Lydia chokes from beside him, “Stiles…” 

“No,” Derek coughs. “He’s dead. Stiles is dead.”

“What?” Erica whimpers. “Stiles, you’re not making sense. You’re okay.” 

“No,” Derek begins, his throat tender. “It was Stiles. He…he switched our…. Stiles is  _ dead. _ ”

* * *

 

Stiles blinks awake to a shimmering summer sky and the snow globe glazed light that he’s come to associate with the otherworlds. “Guess I’m here now,” Stiles breathes, letting his eyes follow a flock of birds drifting past.

“Arkadiusz.”

Stiles looks around, unsure he’s hearing the voice he’s missed for so long.

“Arkadiusz Izaak, my beautiful boy.”

Stiles’ eyes land on her, and she smiles at him from the back porch of his childhood home. “Mom?”

* * *

 

Derek is pulled from the cold body he’s clung to. He’s been hugging it as though he could breathe new life into it by sheer force of will, but he’s unable to fight his way back to the body with Stiles’ human strength. All he can do is watch as distance grows between himself and the body that he can do nothing to save.

They settle him a few yards away, and Sylwia and Wiki come into view as they assess the body. He’s not sure when they arrived, and he can’t be bothered to care. Nothing matters anymore. He looks over to find Peter snarling within some sort of barrier, making promises of blood.

The pack remain close, huddled together as they watch Wiki’s family. There’s no indication that they will be able to reverse what has happened. His pack not only lost Stiles, but they lost their alpha. Derek may be alive, but his wolf is gone. 

The only thing he was able to offer his pack was his wolf; that was the only thing he had going for him. Stiles offered them so much more, he could have taken care of them without a wolf. He was more their alpha than Derek ever was. 

Derek looks toward Peter, who remains seething within his invisible cage. There’s still one thing he can do to avenge Stiles’ death. Derek finds his feet and makes his way toward Peter, Stiles’ magic already sparking at his fingertips.

* * *

 

“Mommy?” Stiles asks again, unable to believe his eyes. “Are you…?” His eyes brim with unshed tears as everything that has led him to this moment settles in.

She takes the few steps down and into the yard, her arms already open in an all too familiar way.

Stiles clambers to his feet, needing to feel his mother's warmth before he falls apart. “Mom,” he breathes as they touch for the first time in more than a decade, wrapping each other in strong arms. “I thought you never wanted to see me again. I thought I disappointed you or--”

“Shhh,” she whispers, petting his long hair. “Arkadiusz, of  _ course  _ not. I couldn’t be more  _ proud  _ of you. I’ve always been proud of you.” 

Stiles’ knees give out and his mother follows him to the ground, still soothing him with a strong palm. All this time he’s let himself believe he killed his mother, and that she would never forgive him. That he was nothing but a disappointment, and she would go back and do everything different. Instead, here she is holding him and telling him how  _ wrong  _ he’s been.

She keeps his shaking shoulders within the circle of her arms and sings soft polish rhymes like when he was a child until he’s able to get his breathing under control. 

When he has a hold on his emotions he pulls back enough to really look at her. She looks the same as the day she died, only stronger and radiant, like all the others in the otherworlds. “You look beautiful, mom.” Stiles smiles, finally believing that she’s really there.

She clicks her tongue and settles into the grass beside him. “Flatterer.” 

Stiles settles next to her, lacing his fingers with hers, unwilling to let her go for even a moment.

She takes a deep breath, looking out at the trees behind their house. “I wasn’t avoiding you.” 

Stiles searches her face for a clue to the abrupt subject change. 

“I wasn’t allowed to make contact with you,” she clarifies, meeting his eyes.

Stiles furrows his brows.

“There’s a lot you have to learn about our heritage, and your magic, and I will be there every step of the way now.”

Stiles looks down at where their fingers trace each other. “Nothing but time, right?” He keeps his thoughts about how useless it is now that he’s stuck in the otherworlds and unable to help his pack. 

“Our time is limited, Stiles.” She grips his hands tight.

Stiles heart clenches. He just got her back; she can’t leave.

“You have to go back,” she tells him.

Stiles shakes his head. “Mom, I may not know a lot, but I know returning from the dead is pretty much a no-no in any realm of magic.”

“There’s always an exception to the rule.” She smiles, gently smoothing his hair. “Part of my arrangement with the ancestors was that as long as I remained uninvolved, I could save you if necessary after you had proven yourself.”

“They knew I was going to die?” Stiles asks as all the air is sucked from his lungs.

“No, of course not.” She shakes her head quickly. “Death is always a possibility we are prepared for, though. Stiles, you’ve only just scratched the surface of your potential, and without guidance, there was uncertainty as to which path you would choose.”

Stiles averts his eyes, all of his vivid fantasies of eviscerating Peter flashing through his mind. “So, I failed, because I was going to kill Peter.”

“You  _ were _ ,” she bites. “You didn’t kill him, though. You sacrificed yourself to spare a life.”

“It wasn’t that heroic,” Stiles scoffs. “It was Derek.”

“Doesn’t matter. You gave your life for another instead of taking one.”

Stiles pulls at the grass around him. “Lot of good that does me, now I’m here, and Derek probably hates me.”

“Then you better get back to him,” she says softly, getting to her feet. “Come on, Arkadiusz.”

Stiles doesn’t let himself believe he gets to cheat death, but he’s not willing to allow any distance between himself and his mother so he follows her into the trees obediently.

* * *

 

Derek is promising Peter a long painful death when Isaac’s voice breaks through to him. Derek flips on him, anger burning through him at the interruption. Instead of flaring eyes, he feels his arms ignite with Stiles’ magic. “What?!”

Isaac points toward the body, and it takes Derek a moment to notice what the issue is. 

The forest floor moves and rustles as vines and roots spring free and encompass the body.

“No!” Derek screams, running forward to rip the roots away; they can’t have him. “No! He’s mine!”

Antoni, and a few of Wiki’s other brothers Derek never bothered learning the names of, hold him back. 

“Let me go! They can’t have him!” Derek shouts.

Sylwia comes into view and cradles his face. “Derek, you need to be strong for him.”

“I can’t,” Derek sniffs.

She nods, petting his hair. “You can. We need to make sure he passes safely, he needs you to help us. We need his magic. Will you help us?”

Derek looks down as the body disappears from view, and knows there’s nothing he can do to bring him back. If the only thing he can do is use Stiles’ magic to help him pass over, then that is what he’s going to do. Derek drops his eyes with a weak nod.

“Good.” She takes his hand and leads him toward the covered body, and his other hand is taken up by Wiki’s. 

Derek waits for instruction, feeling numb when Wiki gasps next to him.

“Mom? Mom! Do you see that?!”

“I do.”

Derek follows their gazes to where a stray vine has coiled around the still heart and is dragging it back to the body.

“Do you think…” Wiki asks.

Sylwia swallows, “It is a wolf… maybe…”

“Mom!” Wiki shouts as the heart is pulled into the center of the mound of vines.

Sylwia shakes her head. “Alright, everyone, make a circle and direct your magic toward the wolf. If the otherworlds are trying to reattach the heart, then we have to help the wolf heal.”

“What?” Derek whispers. 

Wiki looks over at him. “Wake your wolf up.”

“I don’t understand!” Derek shouts, “He’s dead! The wolf is dead! Stiles is dead!”

Wiki grabs his arm. “ _ Something _ is happening. Are you going to stand around do  _ nothing _ , or try to  _ save  _ him?”

* * *

 

Stiles stands back in awe as his mother’s hands fan out in front of her drawing on nature to return Derek’s heart to his body. He can see his pack, and Wiki’s family, all working together to help. It takes him a moment, but he realizes he now knows something he never thought about. “You were a Pulse?”

“I  _ am _ a Pulse, Arkadiusz.” His mother smiles at him, her magic working diligently before her. “When we die, our magic stays with us, unlike other supernatural creatures. We protect the otherworlds after death, but that is something we can discuss another time.”

Stiles shakes his head, unable to wrap his mind around everything that’s happening. 

“Now, lie down,” she instructs.

Stiles takes a tentative step. “I’m sorry, but are you sure we should be doing this? I feel like this is--”

She snaps her eyes at him in an all too familiar way. “Arkadiusz Izaak Stilinski, do as your mother tells you, and lie down.”

Stiles nods vigorously and can’t obey fast enough. He’s looking up at her as the last of the vines cover him, and before she’s out of sight Stiles tells her what he should have said the second he saw her in their backyard. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Arkadiusz. I’ll come see you soon.”

* * *

 

Stiles opens his eyes to dirt and vines. Based on the lack of light slipping through, he thinks it’s safe to say he’s back in the land of the living. He lifts an arm to start pushing the vines away and they fall without resistance. By the time he gets up on an elbow, Derek falls beside him and stares.

The glassy look in Derek’s eyes tell Stiles exactly what’s going through his mind, because he’s seen the same look in the mirror too many times to count. Stiles offers him a weak nod, not even thrown by his own face staring back at him. Bodies are nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Derek falls forward and buries his face in the crook of his neck and takes a deep breath. 

Stiles is about to tell him everything is okay, and just how how sorry he is when Peter’s howl erupts over the group.

“No!” 

Stiles looks over Derek to find Peter more animal than man. 

“No! What is it with you kids? How do you always - NO! I HAD YOU! YOU WERE MINE!”

Stiles can’t help but laugh, but it’s short lived as Sylwia makes her way over.

“Derek, it’s time you switch the two of you back so we can finish with your uncle.”

Derek nods against Stiles’ shoulder and helps Stiles to his feet. 

“Unlike last time, there aren’t any steps, just close your eyes and imagine opening your own eyes.” She instructs.

Derek nods and does as he’s told.

Stiles blinks and he’s back in his own body, and Derek examines his own arms. The sight of Derek alive makes Stiles’ heart swell and he takes a step forward to wrap him in his arms, but he’s pulled away too soon. He’s dragged to Peter, Sylwia already talking.

“The ancestors came to me months ago instructing that I assist you with Peter. He’s lost his right to power, and we are to strip him of it tonight. Are you up to that yet? We can allow you a few more minutes if you need.”

Stiles shakes his head, ready for the nightmare to be over. “Let’s get this over with.”

They circle around, and Peter continues spitting his hatred, knowing he’s lost. 

Stiles watches in fascination as Wiki’s family magic manifests all around him. Wiki’s mist making its way around Peter in delicate spirals. Vines from a few of Wiki’s brothers make their way into the circle, and Sylwia’s wind stirs the trees and makes their hair swirl around their heads. 

They turn to Stiles and he takes a deep breath and lets his lightning follow the vines before him. 

All the elements wrap Peter in a cocoon as he screams for mercy. White smoke evaporates from the enveloped figure and delicately flows outward.

The smoke makes its way up Stiles’ legs and into his hands. After the last of the smoke has slipped into Stiles’ skin, Wiki’s family pulls their magic back and Stiles does the same, leaving Peter in the fetal position on the forest floor.

Sylwia brushes her hands off on her skirt and turns to Stiles. “The otherworlds have rewarded you with his power.”

Stiles throws his hands in front of him. “I don’t want it!” The thought of Peter inside of him makes his skin crawl. “ _ I don’t want it. _ ”

Sylwia doesn’t understand his panic, but she places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Can I give it to you? You can have it.  _ Please _ ,” Stiles begs.

“I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work that way. You can’t give it to another emissary; only the ancestors can distribute magic.”

Stiles feels his heart hammer against his chest. “I don’t  _ want  _ it.”

Wiki walks over with a placating hand out. “You can release it back into nature.”

Stiles nods, thankful someone is offering a solution.

“I would keep it, though. One day you might need the magic. Remember us telling you about aging?” She asks carefully.

“I don’t want anything of that monster in me. I don’t care.” Stiles holds his hands in front of him. “If I do this, he can’t get it back, right? It’s not like I’m the only thing between him and power, right?”

Sylwia shakes her head. “No, he can never get power again. He’s immune to even the bite. He’s completely cut off.”

“Good,” Stiles sighs. “Good. Okay.” Stiles closes his eyes and pictures the same white smoke slipping from his fingers and back into the ground where it belongs. He lets his eyes drift open to watch as the magic does exactly as he asks. 

* * *

 

Derek stands at the edge of the clearing, seeing Stiles release Peter’s power back into the earth. Stiles never ceases to amaze him. Here he is, newly returned from the dead, and continuing on like nothing happened. 

Wiki’s family has given Derek a wide berth since his body reanimated because after shifting back from wolf form, he’s been left unclothed. As much as Derek wishes he could collect Stiles and carry him home, he’s trying to remain as inoffensive as possible to their new allies.

Whilst Wiki’s family and his pack discuss where they go from here, Derek’s eyes land on Peter.

Peter is pulling himself to his feet, eyes set on Stiles, with a large rock in his right hand. Now that he’s human, he can escape his magical prison and obviously plans to take his revenge while no one expects it.

Peter launches himself at Stiles, just as Derek takes a running leap forward in wolf form, intercepting his uncle before he can get within reach of his target.

Derek has Peter on the ground with his jugular between his jaws when Sylwia walks over carefully.

“Derek, you don’t need to kill him.” 

Derek flashes his eyes toward her, then at Stiles. How many times have they let Peter live, and how many times has he nearly taken one of their lives? This has to  _ end _ . 

Stiles takes a step forward, aware of all the eyes on Derek. Their gazes meet and Derek knows that Stiles doesn’t want to stop him because he’s thinking the same thing. He came out tonight with every intention of killing Peter. 

Derek doesn’t take his eyes off Stiles, waiting for him to tell him to end it or release him. He needs Stiles to tell him what to do. 

Stiles presses his lips into a tight line and keeps his head still, purposefully not indicating where he stands on the matter. 

A small whimper escapes Derek. He just needs Stiles to tell him what to do.

Stiles walks over and squats down to rest a hand between Derek’s shoulder blades. “He’s your uncle.”

The way he says it isn’t a plea to spare his life, nor implication that Derek has the task of ending him by ownership. The way he says it is simple. It’s Derek’s uncle. It’s his choice, and no one will judge him for what he decides.

Peter remains motionless below him, awaiting his sentence.

Stiles pats Derek’s back once before standing back up and taking Sylwia by the elbow to give Derek some space.

Derek closes his eyes and imagines his canines sinking into his uncle's neck and concluding a battle he has been fighting half his life. No one would deny Peter’s guilt, but death would be too kind, all too swift an end for the decades of torment he’s inflicted.

It’s the sight of his own paw next to Peter’s shoulder that makes him loosen his grip.

He made the shift.

He  _ really _ made the shift this time. 

The first few times had been accidental and without control, and when he broke free of his restraints it was to save Erica and the baby. This time, Derek was able to take a step forward and begin his shift as naturally as his Beta shift.

He  _ finally made the shift. _

He finally  _ earned  _ his shift.

Derek releases his uncle but remains over him with a low growl, daring his uncle to try to get away.

Peter holds his hands by his ears in surrender. 

Derek looks around for some way to restrain Peter. He’s not going to let him free just because he’s decided to spare his life. 

Stiles must have followed Derek’s train of thought because he calls to Chris, asking him for a pair of cuffs.

After Chris secures Peter, Derek makes his way over to Stiles while he wraps up his conversations with Wiki’s family. Derek remains shifted, allowing himself to enjoy his accomplishment.

His mom would be proud.

* * *

 

A couple hours pass before everyone eventually separates to go their own ways. Sylwia and Stiles discuss in detail his experience in the otherworlds, although Derek can tell that there are things Stiles isn’t sharing. He’s learned most of Stiles’ tells, even without the sound of his heart.

Stiles also asks the question that Dere wasn’t able to while in distress.

“How did you guys know to come tonight? I mean it’s a long drive, there’s no way you could have made it if someone called you,” Stiles says with crossed arms.

Sylwia looks toward Wiki who's engaged in her own conversation a few feet away. “You allowed Wiki to bind herself to you in case something happened. She could feel your distress over the last couple days and insisted we stay in a hotel in town in case something happened. When her connection to you weakened tonight we started calling your pack.”

“Weakened?” Stiles asks.

“We think it happened when you got to the clearing. There’s something about this place that shields it from magic, which is probably why we were unable to locate you at first when the connection weakened.”

Stiles looks around wondering what’s so special about this spot that it kept his magic from locating Derek, and even the Argent’s tracker.

“When we couldn’t find you we called Lydia, but she didn’t answer, no one did until Erica. She sounded confused, but she told us she was being drawn into the woods. After that we headed in her direction and found her only minutes after you…”

“Died.” Stiles says flatly.

“Right.” She clears her throat. “I don’t know what is about you, but you seem like a hard one to kill.” She smiles trying to lighten the mood.

Stiles sighs, looking down at Derek with a grim smile. “Silver linings, right?”

Stiles and Sylwia go back to talking about Stiles’ experience in the otherworlds, and Derek looks around to asses the activity around him.

Wiki and Lydia have officially met and are discussing the things they have worked on together, and how Lydia can move forward in helping Stiles with his magic. The most interesting thing Derek overhears is Wiki telling Lydia she’s not human. This doesn’t shock Lydia as much as it would have a year ago, because they have all been aware of the ’feelings’ she gets occasionally, no one has been able to figure out what they mean.

Wiki explains that since she’s a Splash she can sense body chemistry and identify Emissaries, Werewolves, and Humans within seconds. Lydia’s body chemistry is one she’s never met before, but it doesn’t fall into those three categories. They exchange emails and agree to do research until they’re able to figure it out.

The rest of Wiki’s brothers mingle with the pack exchanging mostly small talk, but occasional promises to assist each other in the future, solidifying their alliance.

Derek remains in wolf form and close enough to hear Stiles’ heartbeat, needing the constant reassurance that he didn’t really lose him tonight. When John arrives Derek shifts from his wolf to stand with Chris and his prisoner at the edge of the clearing.

Chris doesn’t bat an eye at Derek’s nudity, and it takes a minute for Derek to realize it’s because he was familiar with Talia shifting from her wolf around him. John averts his eyes, but otherwise maintains his Sheriff persona. Peter continues grumbling meager threats until they decide what to do with him.

John looks toward the scorched earth and general destruction in the clearing. “Do I even want to know what happened here?”

Chris smirks. “Might be easier if you don’t.”

John looks to Stiles for a moment, making sure he’s in good health before he turns back. “Then I won’t. My son’s okay, and everyone else seems fine, so I’ll take the short version.”

Derek crosses his arms. “Peter had me captive, and Stiles found me. Peter has been stripped of his powers, and is now immune to magic.”

“Immune?” John asks with a raised eyebrow.

Derek nods. “He will remain human. The bite isn’t even an option for him. He’s cut off from ever acquiring magic in any form.” 

Lastly, John looks toward Peter who’s spitting his hatred in Derek’s direction. “I’ll deny ever saying this, but why is he still alive?”

Chris laughs, “I’ve been asking myself that this whole time.”

Derek looks at his uncle. “Because my mom wouldn’t have killed him.”

Both Chris and John stop laughing, and nod once, accepting his answer.

“Well,” John starts. “We can’t just let him go.”

Chris sighs, “I agree.”

Derek remembers his conversation with Peter while captive. “Have we found any concrete evidence to tie him to the fire?”

John furrows his brows, “Only the single surveillance tape, why?”

“Peter told me that he worked with Kate. He helped her gain access to the house and arranged for the rest of our family to die so he could inherit the alpha power. If we can prove his involvement--”

John smiles, “He would go away for a  _ very  _ long time.”

Chris clears his throat. “I’m prepared to put in as many hours as needed to prove his guilt.”

Derek looks at Chris with a short nod. “Thank you.”

Chris smiles. “You’re family.”

It’s the first time Derek hasn’t questioned Chris’ motives.

John agrees to let Chris hold Peter in his basement until they are able to prove his connection to the Hale fire, so they can take him in and have him convicted of the slaughter of his family.

Derek excuses himself to shift back and make a round of the clearing to check on his pack. Everyone is more relaxed, and exhaustion is weighing in as the adrenaline burns from their systems. Derek lies at Stiles’ feet until he decides it’s time for them to go home and finally wrap up this nightmare.

* * *

 

All Stiles can think about is a shower when they get home, but he makes himself go to the kitchen and pull out something easy to prepare for breakfast as the sky starts to tinge pink.

They all eat cereal and toast an entire loaf of bread, crowding around the table. Since Wiki’s family dropped them all off back at the house they’ve all been quiet. Stiles isn’t sure if it’s because they are processing the events of the night or sheer exhaustion, but he’s not bothered by the silence.

Derek excuses himself first and heads upstairs for a shower as he’s the grimiest of them all from his time with Peter. Stiles watches Derek’s bare back disappear down the hall, his skin tells stories Stiles wishes he didn’t have to witness. The dried blood and dirt paint all too vivid an image.

That seems to be a signal to the rest of the pack and they disperse, breaking the silence to hug Stiles and tell him how happy they are that he didn’t die. Stiles tries to make light of it with a few jokes about how it takes more to shut him up for good, but it still feels weird.

Stiles heads upstairs, his mind moving through molasses as it processes recent events.

The shower’s still running, and Stiles joins Derek in the bathroom. Stiles pulls his clothes off and stops in front of the sink when he catches his reflection in the mirror.

He hadn’t realized how dirty he is; his face is covered in dirt and his hair is in disarray, but this isn’t what gives him pause.

A pattern of clean streaks line his cheeks, and puddle in his collar bones.

Clear streaks made by tears, but Stiles doesn’t remember crying. His sobs in his mother’s arms had been dry huffs of happy emotion with no tears, and that was technically in astral form. There wouldn’t be evidence of tears even if he had cried.

Movement in the mirror slams everything into perspective.

_ Derek _ .

Stiles switched their bodies and left Derek in his body when he died. 

He  _ died _ .

No one knew he was going to live. Stiles didn’t expect to live. He  _ was dead. _

He died and left Derek to deal with the aftermath. He’s found evidence of the pain he caused written all over his own face.

Stiles grips the counter in front of him, breath harder to find. He died. 

Since he came back he’s felt at odds with reality, unable to feel anything real. He realizes how chaotic their lives are because they’ve all been trying to move past something so traumatic as though it were only another Monday in Beacon Hills. This isn’t something you can just  _ sleep off _ .

He  _ died. _

Lost in his thoughts, Stiles misses Derek shutting off the shower and climbing out. He’s oblivious to Derek’s actions until he feels Derek press his forehead to the base of his skull behind him.

Stiles lets out a sigh of relief at feeling Derek’s breath on his neck and opens his eyes to see Derek’s hands ghosting along his arms like he’s afraid to touch. There are so many things Stiles wants to say, but nothing is right, or will ever be enough. “I’m so sorry.”

Derek twists his head against his in a sharp shake of his head, his lips pressing against his nape, but not kissing, just touching.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” Stiles’ voice shakes.

Derek wraps his arms around his chest, one hand covering Stiles’ heart.

Stiles lifts his hands to hold Derek’s wrists, and finds himself holding on for dear life.

They remain there holding each other tightly for a while, understanding how close they came to losing each other, determined not to let it ever happen again. 

Stiles twists in Derek’s arms, needing more contact. He tucks one arm under one of Derek’s and loops the other over his shoulder and hugs him close. They bury their faces in each other’s shoulders.

Stiles finds himself shaking. “I’m so--”

Derek shakes his head again. “No.” His own voice must wake him up because he starts moving. His hands trace Stiles’ spine, and his mouth starts a line of delicate kisses up Stiles’ neck and across his jaw. “No. Don’t apologize for surviving.”

“But--”

“No.” Derek finally meets his lips and sucks the air right out of Stiles’ lungs. “All that matters is that I got you back.” Derek’s hands come up to Stiles’ jaw and trace the lines of his face.

Stiles opens his eyes to find Derek’s green eyes sparkling back at him, and all of his pain and worry fades away. Stiles cards his hand through Derek’s hair and pulls him forward with the intent of showing him how happy he is to be alive.

Derek pulls back abruptly when Stiles’ phone starts ringing from where his clothes lie in their bedroom. 

Stiles kisses his nose before walking out to answer. It’s his dad. “Hey, pops. What’s up? You should be sleeping.”

“Unlike you delinquents, I actually got some sleep last night. I’m just going in for my shift and wanted to see when Derek wanted to meet today.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “I’ll text you when he wakes up, might have to push it a day.” 

Derek’s pulling back the covers and sliding into bed, and Stiles knows he’s going to sleep for at least twelve hours after everything he’s been through.

“Alright son, you get some rest too.” 

“Oh, believe me, I plan on it.” Stiles smiles, watching Derek bury his nose in his pillow.

Stiles hangs up after telling his dad to be safe at work and makes way to his bedside table to plug in his phone to the charger. Everything falling back into normality, but still doing nothing to ease Stiles’ mind.

Derek reaches out with one hand and tugs Stiles into bed in one swift movement.

“Derek, I need to shower,” Stiles laughs, as Derek arranges him until he’s under Derek, and Derek’s nose is buried in his collar bone.

“No, you don’t,” Derek grumbles, licking a stripe up the cord of his neck. 

“Are you kidding? I have to smell like a locker room.” Stiles giggles, Derek’s beard tickling and igniting familiar nerve endings.

Derek shakes his head, tongue tracing his collar bones. “Smell good. Smell  _ alive _ .”

Stiles brings his arms around Derek and lets his words sink in as he nods. “Yeah, okay. I’ll shower later.” As tired as Stiles is, he will always be on board for anything Derek wants forever and always. 

Derek slides his hands up the underside of Stiles’ arms and pins his hands above his head as he slowly makes a trail down Stiles’ chest. He kisses and licks every millimeter of skin, driving Stiles closer and closer to the brink of insanity.

Stiles’ toes curl with each second of attention he’s given, feeling more alive than he has in a long time, yet closer to death than when Peter’s hand was lodged in his chest.

Derek buries his nose in Stiles armpit, and Stiles flinches having never been touched there before. Derek takes a deep breath, a low rumble in his chest, before dragging his tongue from bottom to top and along the underside of his arm. 

If Stiles wasn’t standing at attention before, he sure as fuck is now. 

Derek takes both of Stiles’ hands in one, and traces his free hand down Stiles’ sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His hand comes between Stiles’ thighs to start teasing at his hole.

“Fuck, Derek,” Stiles pants. “Come here.”

Derek surges up to meet his lips, and Stiles finds one leg hiked over the bend of Derek’s arm, open and vulnerable.

Stiles moans into Derek’s lips, his hands free and tangled in Derek’s hair. “Lube. Get lube.”

Derek stretches across the bed to retrieve the bottle from the bedside table as instructed.

Stiles looks as Derek’s perfect, round, toned ass and can’t resist. He rolls over on top of Derek thrusting along the firm line of his crack, sucking bites down Derek’s spine.

Derek falls flat against the mattress, gasping at the sensation. 

Stiles takes the lube from Derek’s hand and slicks up his fingers as he spreads Derek’s legs with his knees. “I love you so fucking much.” Stiles bites Derek’s ear, feeling as though he could come just looking at how Derek flexes below him without even being touched.

Derek whimpers, tilting his hips up, silently begging.

Stiles drags his middle finger down the crease of Derek’s ass, and just slips over Derek’s hole and continues down to Derek’s perineum. He’s always wanted to make Derek come from massaging just and only that.

Derek’s legs fly further apart the second Stiles gives it pressure. His breathing grows erratic the longer Stiles gives him attention there, and Stiles forgets what his end goal was, too distracted by Derek writhing below him begging for more.

Stiles finger slides further and over Derek’s balls, cradling them with the same pressure before dragging back and over the spot he’s given so much attention and back to his hole.

“Stiles,” Derek begs, voice ragged.

Stiles kisses behind his ears and trails more bites down his neck, and spine. Finally, he presses a finger in, and Derek lets out a broken whimper. “Shh,” Stiles whispers, knowing it’s a cry of pleasure, but still feeling like he’s done something wrong. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Derek nods, his body thrusting back into Stiles’ hand.

Stiles opens him easily, caressing all the spots he knows ignite Derek. Stiles holds himself above Derek and watches Derek’s eyebrow and the corner of his mouth switch with the movements of his fingers. 

Derek’s eyes open and he catches Stiles’ eyes, he cranes his head as if he could make a 180 if he tries hard enough, pressing up from the mattress.

Stiles spares him the trouble and leans down to claim his lips. Their tongues tangle, their breath deafening. Stiles keeps his pace slow but increases the pressure against Derek’s prostate, wanting to drain any remaining tension from his mate.

Derek’s knee shoots up higher, his teeth dig into Stiles’ lower lip, and his ass clenches around Stiles’ fingers as he spurts his release.

Stiles doesn't stop, milking every drop Derek will give him. Stiles kisses him through it, flattening himself against Derek’s back as he trembles with the aftershocks of his much needed orgasm.

A few minutes pass and Stiles forgets about his own hard on, sleep trying to take him again.

Derek rolls over underneath him and arranges Stiles to straddle him. They exchange leisurely kisses until Stiles starts to wake back up. 

“Get your fingers in me,” Stiles demands, suddenly desperate.

Derek wastes no time, slick fingers finding his opening quickly. 

“Yeah, fuck,” Stiles moans, falling forward on Derek’s chest. “Yeah.”

Derek’s pace is faster than Stiles’ was, and Stiles isn’t complaining. He didn’t realize how badly he needed to come. When Derek gets up to three fingers, Stiles grabs his wrist. 

“Can you go again? I need you inside me, right now.” Stiles locks his eyes with Derek. “Please.”

Derek reaches up and pulls Stiles down into a kiss, while working himself back to attention.

When Derek starts to line himself up Stiles takes things back into his own hands, and braces himself on Derek’s chest as he sinks down on Derek. Stiles bites his lip, in love with the familiar burn, and how full he feels once he’s seated.

Derek grips his hips, thumbs tracing his hip bones.

Stiles keeps his eyes on Derek’s as he slowly starts rolling his hips, delicious friction painting his skin a scarlet red.

Derek pushes into a sitting position, his mouth sucking a mark over Stiles’ heart where he’s sure the organ is deafening to Derek’s ears.

_ Alive.  _

Stiles shoves Derek back down and bites back into his mouth, their tongues tangling, as Stiles slams his hips down faster, needing more.

Derek tries to meet Stiles’ thrusts, but Stiles’ pace is erratic and they can’t quite sync up.

Stiles feels his release coming, but he’s not ready for this to end, so he stops all movement, and hides his face in Derek’s neck.

Derek stirs below him and Stiles stops him.

“No, just a second. I need…” Stiles huffs, knowing if Derek so much as breathes in his ear right now, he’s going to blow.

Derek freezes and they lie still for a moment until Stiles can lift his head and kiss Derek gently, their hips moving at a glacial pace. With their heads pressed together, and their breathing slowing down, Derek says something that rips Stiles’ heart to pieces. “Don’t leave me.”

“Never,” Stiles promises, kissing first his lips, then repeating his promise. “Never.” Then kissing one of Derek’s closed eyelids, and then the other. “Never.”

Stiles finds his second wind as Derek nods his trust below him, and sits up to slip between his legs.

Derek catches up with what’s happening and grips Stiles’ ass to pull against his opening. “Do it.”

Stiles nods, and lines himself up, needing to feel the warm clench of Derek. Stiles bottoms out easy, Derek’s hole still stretched from earlier. “God, you’re perfect.”

Derek gasps, gripping the sheets beside him before grabbing his thighs and lifting his legs to give Stiles better access.

Stiles gets his balance, bracing himself against Derek’s thighs, and starts up a brutal pace. 

Derek’s abs clench and release in quick succession, his pants and cries filling the air. His cock is bright pink and twitching against his abdomen and Stiles can’t resist taking it in his hand and jerking him off with the same relentless tempo.

Stiles feels his release coming, but this time he’s not able to stop and buy time. He’s only human and Derek is perfection. No mere mortal could resist tumbling off this cliff in the face of such beauty.

Derek drops his thighs and pulls Stiles forward to bite into his mouth, too lost to kiss with any true finesse, but desperate to touch as much skin as possible. 

Their thrusts lose rhythm and it’s only a matter of seconds before they’re crying their release.

Stiles collapses on top of Derek, and they kiss until they can’t keep their eyes open anymore, and fall asleep tangled in each other.

* * *

 

They had all taken a day to rest before attempting to get back to their normal lives. Whatever ‘normal’ is for them, anyway. Stiles revelled in the freedom of not having to worry about Peter – for the first time in a year he could now leave the house without fear. He started by driving Derek to the Sheriff’s station to continue their investigation into Peter.

He killed a few hours in town until it was time to meet his dad and Derek for lunch. He stopped at the hospital to bring Melissa the biggest cup of coffee he could find, then made his way to Deaton’s clinic. 

Deaton’s wounds were almost healed, and he was back to his old cryptic self, talking about Sparks, ancestors, and the otherworlds. Scott was working too, but training a new kid, Mason, to take over while he’s away at college. When Allison showed up with an early lunch for Scott, Stiles left for Chris’ house. 

Chris was acting normal even though he had a deranged psychopath in a cell in his basement. Stiles killed an hour helping him go through more of Kate’s belongings, which Chris pulled from storage that morning. 

On his drive back to the station, he took a deep breath of ‘ordinary’; it was wonderful to feel like he could relax into normal life again. There was a great deal of pleasure to be gained from not having the threat of imminent death hanging over his family and friends. 

* * *

 

It’s only been a few days since Stiles died, but it feels like months. Stiles lifts his head to look around at his pack and Wiki’s family enjoying the bright summer day. He rolls over onto his stomach on his towel and listens to his pack splash and chatter around him under the sun. 

Derek spent the entire day before clearing up the swimming area and riverbank for the fourth of July picnic. It was something normal and carefree that Derek was determined to do. He wanted to provide a safe environment for the pack to let loose and enjoy what was left of their summers before everyone separated to head off to college or other endeavors.

Stiles watched with a barely hidden smile as Derek, Boyd, and Jackson race back and forth down the river.

Derek comes to a stand in the water, shaking his hair with a brilliant smile.

Everyone’s okay.

Jackson’s a little grumpy because Lydia’s already left for her trip, and he’ll have to wait three weeks before she’s home. He’s dealing with his stress by challenging the others to random pissing contests. Right now, he’s charging up Isaac to see who can get the farthest from the bank on the rope swing before letting go.

Isaac has officially enrolled in the academy which starts in a couple weeks. Stiles joked with Derek for a while about how he should join too. Stiles told Derek how hot he’d look in uniform, but Derek countered with how that made him uncomfortable, because Stiles’ dad was a cop, and uniforms shouldn’t be a kink of his. This effectively shut Stiles up and sent him into half a day of research to see if he should be worried about his mental health.

Scott and Allison have enrolled in college a few towns over and are packing for their move in a month.

Stiles even enrolled himself at the local community college for his basics.

Erica is due in less than a week and has abandoned her stoicism and given in to telling the pack all about the horrors of pregnancy. She complains about her list of pains continuously, but no one faults her for it. It’s really taking a toll on her body. Almost to the finish line, though. 

Stiles jumps up, skin warm and damp with sweat, and jogs down to the water for a canon ball. This has been his method all day, and Derek still manages to look annoyed when Stiles pops out of the water in front of him to shake his long hair out and splatter him with more water.

Derek turns to swim away but Stiles reaches out, knowing Derek’s proportions, and grabs his shorts. Derek can’t stop fast enough before his shorts are at his knees. “Stiles!”

Stiles throws his head back in laughter, mouth wide at the horror on Derek’s face. The water’s murky enough that no one can see what Stiles has done, but Derek’s ears blister with his embarrassment.

Stiles pulls himself closer while Derek is busy pulling his shorts back up. The frustration has already bled from Derek’s face by the time he looks up to meet Stiles’ eyes. “My dad called.” Stiles starts, pushing the hair from Derek’s face as he brings his legs up to wrap around Derek, clinging to him like a spider monkey. 

Derek holds him easily, and they float just under the surface.

“He said the insurance company eventually contacted him and asked what his plans were.”

Derek starts a slow spin, sending ripples through the water. “What did he decide?”

Stiles drops his head back to skim the water as Derek spins him. “He didn’t believe you were serious about rebuilding his house, but I told him you were. So as soon as the insurance company mails the check, he said he’s giving it to you to use for supplies.”

“He doesn’t have to do that,” Derek argues.

Stiles lifts his head to smirk at Derek. “I know, and I told him, but he said it was non-negotiable.”

Derek sighs and Stiles sits up to kiss the corner of his mouth which instantly ticks up with his own smirk.

They leisurely swim, talking about everything and nothing at all. They chat with the others that bump into them in the river as their instinctively drawn toward their alpha, and everything just feels right.

Stiles is talking to Wiki about ways to protect the whole preserve when Derek interrupts with the last thing Stiles ever thought he would hear Derek say.

“Marry me.”

Stiles blinks at him, replaying the words over and over.

Derek’s eyes sparkle back, a bright smile taking over his face. “Marry me.”

Isaac shouts from across the river, “Say yes!”

This wakes Stiles up and he shoves Derek away. “No!”

Derek laughs for a moment, thinking he’s joking. 

Stiles crosses his arms, looking around at all the people witnessing this. “You are such an asshole.”

Derek’s face starts to fall as he realizes Stiles isn’t being sarcastic. “Stiles, are you…?”

“Such. An. Asshole,” Stiles gripes, images of his own proposal plans flashing through his mind. He hadn’t ironed out the details, but he definitely planned a better proposal than ‘Marry me’ at a fourth of July party.

Derek looks around quickly, lowering his voice. “Stiles, I’m sorry, I wasn’t think--”

“Shut up,” Stiles groans, pulling Derek forward quickly to kiss his fears away. 

Derek relaxes and his arms come around Stiles’ back. 

Stiles shoves him away again. “ _ Marry me,” _ Stiles mocks. “Such an asshole.” Stiles splashes Derek. “I had  _ plans _ , jackass.”

“You can still go to college…” Derek tries to amend the situation, still not understanding. “And anything else you want, I would never try to hold you back.”

“No, stupid.” Stiles splashes him again. “I had  _ plans _ .”

Derek blinks back at him, still lost.

“Better plans than ‘ _ Marry me _ ’” Stiles rolls his eyes. “What kind of proposal is that? Where’s the romance? The ingenuity? I’m not telling our future children that you proposed on a whim at a fourth of July party, no siree, nuh uh, nope”

Derek finally catches on and smiles brightly back at Stiles.

Stiles fights a smile but it’s inevitable. Of course he wants to marry Derek, that was never in question.

Derek comes forward, and Stiles splashes him again. 

“Such an asshole,” Stiles grumbles without heat.

Derek closes the space between them and uses his strength to manipulate Stiles into his arms. “So, is that a yes?” Derek grins.

“No,” Stiles says petulantly. 

Isaac shouts from somewhere close by. “What? No! Say yes!”

“No, because  _ Derek’s  _ going to be the one saying yes when I show him what a  _ real  _ proposal sounds like.” 

Derek presses their foreheads together. “What if I say yes, now?”

“I didn’t ask,” Stiles argues.

“But you’re going?” Derek asks with a gentle timbre to his voice.

Stiles smirks at him cheekily. “Let’s just say we’re engaged to be engaged.”

Derek’s eyes crinkle with the intensity of his smile as he closes the distance between them. 

Stiles melts into his future husband’s kiss and breaks into a laugh when everyone around them erupts in cheering. Their teeth clack as they both laugh and hide their faces in each other, still trying to kiss around their laughter. 

“I love you,” Derek whispers for only him to hear.

Stiles’ heart stutters in his chest like it always does when Derek opens up like this. “I’m totally going to knock your socks off with my proposal.”

“Can’t wait.” 

Their smiles relax enough to really kiss, and everything fades away until one voice breaks through.

“My water just broke.”

* * *

 

The trip to Deaton’s clinic is sheer madness. Everyone’s freaking out, and absolutely no one is prepared.

Boyd takes off with Erica the second they clear the trees, and Derek runs through the house to get clothes for himself and Stiles while Stiles stands on the back porch freaking out the most.

Derek throws on his own clothes and grabs a pair of sweats, a shirt, and a hoodie for Stiles because he remembers Stiles telling him how cold the hospital was when he would visit his mom as a kid.

Scott and Allison hit the stairs at the same time as Derek and he lets them go first as he calls to Isaac to see if he’s riding with them. Isaac stumbles out of his room with one leg in his jeans, fighting to pull them over his wet legs.

Derek can’t fight the laugh that bursts out of him. None of these kids have experienced this before, and Derek’s been around for dozens of newborns. 

They all hit the back porch running and scatter into Allison’s car, Jackson’s Porsche, and Derek’s Camaro.

Wiki’s family are packing up at the river, and waved them off with good wishes (and threats if they do not call as soon as Erica has delivered).

“Oh my God!” Stiles says for the hundredth time since Erica announced her water break. “Oh my God!” 

Derek reaches across the console to lace his fingers with Stiles’ fidgeting ones. 

“She’s having the baby, Derek.”

Derek smiles, knowing this is only the beginning of their new family. “I know.”

His mom would be proud.

* * *

* * *

 

Deaton leaves Erica in the care of Melissa that night as she recovers from childbirth. He needs to confirm his fears. He makes the drive to the location where Stiles fought Peter, now that he’s checked the location with Stiles.

He parks his car and walks the last mile to the clearing that he desperately hopes Stiles was mistaken on. When he reaches the space, the ground bears the scars of lightning strikes from the fight between Stiles and Peter, and he knows his hope was misplaced.

He pulls out his phone and dials the number he hoped he’d never have to call. He passes through the clearing and finds the doors that held Derek captive. Seeing the location, he suddenly grasps exactly why Stiles’ magic and the Argent’s trackers were unable to locate Derek.

An unfamiliar voice answers, “What do you have to report?”

Deaton looks down at the layers of rings, holding centuries of secrets. “This is Alan Deaton. I’m afraid the counsel should know that the hypothetical situation we all feared isn’t so hypothetical anymore.”

“You’re located in Beacon Hills, correct?” The voice asks.

“I am, I’ve been placed here by the counsel for the last twenty-five years to monitor the--”

“Oh my...” The voice gasps, having located his assignment.

Deaton glances over at the flicker of a firefly. “Please inform the counsel that the Nemeton is awake.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pops confetti*
> 
> Well this has been an adventure, I tell you what. I started the sequel on November 1st for NaNo, and nearly killed myself trying to meet my deadline. I hate that I couldn't get this chapter done to finish the 12 Days of Christmas, but as I noted in the last chapter I was in the hospital with Pneumonia and since I got out it's been hard to get this done, let alone get out of bed each day.
> 
> Now, back to the story. I do intend a third installment, but since I didn't meet the 12 days deadline, I might not do that again. I'll start working on it as soon as I finish SIFTTOYL and maybe I'll post mid year? No promises aside from the fact that it will happen at some point. 
> 
> I cannot express how in love with this verse I am. I've never written established relationships, or magic, and man oh man has this been fun. The next installment will be magic centric, along with a couple other things I've planted. Did you catch them all? All the clues are there, just not spelled out. Did you honestly think I would leave plot holes like a certain unmentionable person? Nah, man, nah. I left a handful of un answered questions, and half explanations on purpose. 
> 
> Any who! You've all been amazing, and I can't wait to hear what you guys thought of my 2 and half months of insane scrambling.
> 
> ALSO! Another shout out to [KRIST](http://notvirginawoolf.tumblr.com/) who made my madness make any sense at all. She is amazing and I can never repay her for all of her time she gave me. There literally aren't words for how amazing she is. Seriously.   
> And [Elise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GrangerPeavon/pseuds/GrangerPeavon) who has stuck with me and helped with my comma disease, while leaving sweet little comments throughout the fic to keep me motivated when I wanted to call everything off.  
> These two are seriously incredible in every way. Thank you guys soo much.
> 
> And a final (late) Merry Christmas to my Boo. This was all for you. Consider this my 1 year anniversary present ;)
> 
> As always you can find me on Tumblr at my [Main Blog](http://tamzstripped.tumblr.com/) or [Sterek Corner!](http://littleredsterek.tumblr.com/)
> 
> P.s. If you could check out [THIS](http://tamzstripped.tumblr.com/post/155731647809/guilty-by-design-is-complete-enjoy-stiles-and) post and share it I'd really appreciate it :D

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at my [Main Blog](http://tamzstripped.tumblr.com/) or [Sterek Corner!](http://littleredsterek.tumblr.com/)
> 
> See you guys tomorrow!


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